


By The Light Of The Moon

by herecomesbucktofuckshitup



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Imprinting, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Trans Steve Rogers, Underage Relationship(s), Werewolf Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomesbucktofuckshitup/pseuds/herecomesbucktofuckshitup
Summary: Steve rescues a dog. Also, there's a new boy at school.The two don't seem related.(or, the one where Steve saves a werewolf and maybe falls in love)





	1. Chapter 1

Steve was walking home from school when he heard it.

His fists were clenched, and he was huffing angrily, trying his hardest to ignore the sting of the bruise on his cheek and the rage making him choke on every breath. Rumlow and his goons had cornered Steve after school, making him pay for ratting on them.

Like they needed an excuse. They kicked his ass every other day for no reason.

Still, he told himself that telling Mr. Coulson that they were the ones who slashed his tires was the right thing to do.

Steve just wished that doing the right thing didn’t hurt so damn much.

His breathing hitched and chest tightened, and Steve stopped, leaning against the side of a building. He was not going to have an asthma attack here. It was humiliating, the way tears sprang into his eyes as he fumbled for his inhaler. After the medicine freed up his airways enough so that he was no longer wheezing, Steve sighed, wiping his face with a sleeve.

It was when he stopped panting long enough to hear anything other than the sound of his own miserable lungs, he heard it.

A whimper, small and pitiful came from the alley. Steve turned his head, looking sharply toward the noise. He couldn’t see far into the alley, it was getting dark and his vision was shit. There was one of those green, industrial dumpsters, and a few trash bags that someone was too lazy to actually throw away. “Hello?” Steve called, peering a little further into the alley.

The noise didn’t come again, but Steve got out his phone, turning on the flashlight. A rat skittered past him, like it was anxious to escape the alley and the light from Steve’s phone was it's chance. Steve didn’t jump, he was a born New Yorker, used to vermin. Still, he felt slightly uneasy. “H-hello?” He asked again.

Another whimper, sad and frightened. Steve thought it was coming from behind the garbage. Despite all his senses demanding otherwise, he stepped further into the alley. He crouched low, shining his light underneath the dumpster.

Two shining eyes met his. Steve gasped, falling onto his ass and scrambling backwards until his back hit the brick wall behind him. His phone clattered against the ground, and he grabbed for it clumsily, pointing it towards the eyes like it would protect him.

There, behind the dumpster, was a dog. Steve laughed a little at himself. “Oh. You scared the shit out of me, buddy.” He held his hand out, low to the ground, fingers barely passing the edge of the lip of the dumpster. “You can come on out. Promise not to hurt ya.”

The dog whined, that soft, pained whimper again. Steve moved a little closer, scooching forward on his hands and knees. “Are you hurt, baby? Let me see.”

Belly low to the ground, the dog inched forward under the dumpster. Every step it took looked pained, and it cried out, a hurt moan, almost human-sounding in it's agony. Finally, it's nose brushed against Steve’s fingers, cold and surprising. The dog sniffed once, and Steve slowly reached out further, rubbing gently against the dog’s muzzle. There was another of those whimpers, but Steve thought that this time, it sounded relieved.

The dog pulled itself out from under the dumpster, and it made a sound almost like a scream as it stumbled out towards Steve. “Oh my god,” Steve whispered.

The dog was huge, a size that shouldn’t be able to squeeze underneath a city dumpster. It had dangerous looking teeth and strange, pretty blue eyes. Its fur was a dark brown, almost black, and matted, though not exactly dirty.

Though it wasn’t the dog’s appearance that shocked Steve. It's front left leg was torn and ragged and bleeding, bleeding a lot.

“Fuck,” Steve said, and the dog limped closer, breathing on Steve’s face. It whimpered again, quiet, almost pleading. The dog’s chin settled against Steve’s shoulder, like it was exhausted. Steve, surprised by this blatant act of trust, wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck, digging his fingers in its fur. “I-I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve struggled to his feet. There was blood on his flannel shirt, and he took it off, bending down to wrap it over the dog’s injured leg. It let him, nosing at Steve’s arm, as if in thanks. It tried to walk, but stumbled and made another of those pained whines. Steve grimaced. “I don’t think I can carry you, buddy.”

The dog made a huffing sound, and tried to take another step. It had the same result, and the dog whimpered again, swaying a little dangerously. It sat down on the ground, like it had to or it would fall over. “Shit,” Steve said, crouching down again. He cupped the dog’s face in his hands, rubbing one of its ears gently. “Come on, pal. You need to stay with me.”

It whined pitifully, blinking at him. Steve sighed, then bent down, gathering the huge dog in his arms. It was too easy to lift him, far too easy, and Steve could feel its ribs. He wondered when the last time the poor thing ate. The dog growled a little as its leg was jostled, but there was no heat behind it.

Steve rolled his eyes, carrying the dog the three blocks to his apartment. By the end of it, his back was aching, and his breath was coming in short, little pants.

Finally, he reached the elevator, and he set the dog down, hitting the button for the 8th floor. The dog laid down, panting too, like it was in pain but trying to keep itself from making a sound. When the doors open and the bell dinged, Steve picked up the dog again. He made it to 814, his apartment, and kicked his foot against the door rather than knocking.

“For heaven’s sake, Steven, you don’t just-” His mother’s scolding came to a stop when she saw the dog in his arms.

“Hey, ma,” Steve said, voice breathy. “Do you have your first aid kit?”

 

-

 

His mother, the best nurse in New York, didn’t ask questions, just ushered Steve inside, putting a towel on the floor so that he could set the dog down. It was nearly unconscious now, blood loss and panic making it woozy.

Sarah Rogers assessed the damage quick and professionally, a sour look on her face. She worked, sitting on her legs on their ancient carpet as Steve hovered anxiously. “Stop doing that.” She ordered, and Steve stilled his pacing. “Go to the bathroom and get me my gloves and my bag. It's all under the sink.”

“Okay.” Steve said, stomach dropping as he all but sprinted to the bathroom. It felt good to be able to do something, but the fact that his mom was sending him to get her things probably meant that the dog needed more than some rubbing alcohol and gauze strips. He grabbed the ugly blue leather bag that his mother kept all of her medical supplies in and her box of sterile latex gloves. 

He dumped it all at his mother’s feet and sat beside the dog’s head, trying to keep it from making those little, frightened sounds. “Put some gloves on,” Sarah told him, already gloved hands rifling through her bag. Steve nodded, grabbing two of the purple gloves and struggling to pull them on. The were a little too small for him, as his hands were disproportionately large for his skinny body. His mom often compared them to puppy’s paws.

Steve got them on and frowned, as the dog whimpered again. "What kind of person would do something like this?" He asked, mostly to himself. His mom looked up at him, but said nothing. She came up with a syringe and small bottle of medicine, and the dog started struggling, frightened yips turning into a deep, terrified growl. “Hey,” Steve said quietly, running his gloved hands over the dog’s ear and face. “Hey, it's okay, baby. We’re here to help.”

The dog whined, so pitiful and frightened that Steve wanted to cry. Its strange, pretty blue eyes met Steve’s, and it looked like it was pleading with him. “I promise.” Steve said, crossing his heart. “I’ve got you.”

It relaxed a little, though every muscle seemed tense. Steve continued to stroke its fur, then nodded at his mother, who slid the needle into the dog’s back leg. She pressed down on the plunger, and the dog almost immediately relaxed, breaths coming steadier and eyes slipping closed.

“Poor thing.” She muttered, running a hand over the dog’s side, half soothing ministration and half examination, like she was searching for internal damage. She shook her head, almost angry, like she was considering how the dog came about these injuries.

She got out her scissors, cutting fur away from the worst of the wounds so that she could have better visibility. She got to work on cleaning them, then stopped, making a concerned face. “This shouldn’t be so inflamed.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked nervously, petting the dog’s ears. “What’s wrong?”

Sarah shook her head grimly, continuing to clean the wounds. “These are recent, still bleeding, but it's badly infected, like it's been untreated for weeks.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded pretty bad.

His mom went back into her bag and came up with another small bottle of medicine. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but the infection could be dangerous. I’m not a veterinarian but I think he’s running a high fever. Here,” She gave the dog another shot, looking unsure. “Hopefully the antibiotic will help.”

“Mom?” Steve asked, worried by the concerned, creased look on her face.

Sarah gave him a wary smile, then reached over squeezed his hand. “Let’s get to work.”

She stitched up the worst of the wounds. Steve played nurse, dabbing at the blood and pus with gauze. Finally, she bandaged the leg and sighed. “That’ll have to do. We’ll take him to a vet tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Steve whispered, stroking the dog’s ears.

His mom took off her gloves and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. She pressed a kiss to him temple. “You’re a good boy, Steven. You’ve got a big heart.” Steve nodded and his mom ruffled his hair, looking at the dog. “What will you call him?”

“I can keep him?” Steve sounded too young and too hopeful to him own ears.

Sarah smiled, cold hand cupping Steve’s face for a second. “I think it's clear that whoever owned him before has no business taking care of a living thing.” Steve hugged her, silently thrilled.

He pulled back, surveying the unconscious dog in front of him. Steve curled a hand in the matted fur, running a hand over the prominent ribs. “Bucky.” He decided. “His name is Bucky.”


	2. Chapter 2

They cleaned Bucky off as best as they could and made a nest of towels on the floor next to Steve’s bed. He didn’t wake up, probably catching up on some well deserved rest.

Sarah and Steve sat down for supper, making small talk about how their days went. Steve had to explain why he was bruised, and his mother shook her head, muttering to herself about the boys at school. Steve asked about her strangest patient of the day, and she told him about a 40 year old man who had eaten twelve AA batteries.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged, taking another bite of her ravioli. It was one of Steve's favorites, thought it tasted slightly of freezer burn. Sarah had never been much of a cook. “Maybe he was hungry.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Weird.” They continued to eat, chatting quietly. Steve collected the dishes when they were done, washing them off in the sink as his mom settled on the couch, turning on the television. After he was done, he wiped his hands off on the hand towel and walked into the living room, leaning down and kissing his mother’s temple.

“Gonna go do homework.” He said.

She patted his hand, not looking away from the television. “You don’t want to watch my shows with me?”

He looked up at the terrible police procedural she was watching and laughed. “No thanks.”

“Alright.” Sarah waved him off. He smiled, going to his room.

Bucky was still asleep, and Steve settled on the floor next to him, scratching his ears. He unzipped his backpack, getting out his math textbook and propping it against his knees, scribbling out equations onto his notebook. Eventually, his back started to ache, and he sighed, tossing the books onto his bed.

He looked over at Bucky, unable to keep from smiling at the dog. “I’m glad I found you, buddy.” Steve said softly, gently rubbing his hand over Bucky’s snout.

Steve got to his feet, knees popping like a old man’s. He toed off his socks and took off his jeans, then climbed onto the bed, pulling his homework into his lap. He yawned, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

His finished his math and moved onto his readings for history and english. Eventually, the words of _Animal Farm_ started blurring together, and he sighed, tossing the book on his nightstand. He walked to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and taking his meds. He bid goodnight to his mother and crawled into bed, turning his lamp off and falling asleep.

Steve dreamed that he was underwater, fighting a bunch of multicolored fish over a turkey sandwich with mustard and mayonnaise. Steve doesn’t even like mayonnaise, but it was the principal of the thing. It was his sandwich, not the fishes’.

There was a high-pitched whine, and Steve frowned, suddenly remembering that he couldn’t breath under water. He coughed, falling. He wasn’t sure how he was falling, but before he could hit the ground he woke up, startled and panting.

Something cold brushed against his hand and he jumped nearly out of his skin. Steve looked down to see Bucky, and he sighed in relief. “Oh, hey buddy.” He whispered, shaking himself of the jolt of adrenaline that was coursing through his body. Bucky whined again, and Steve sat up in bed, rubbing his face. He check the time, seeing that it was nearly three in the morning. “What’s up?” He asked, setting his feet on the ground. The dog sniffed at his legs, making another sound. Steve yawned, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Do you need to go outside?”

Bucky huffed, nosing one of Steve’s hands, then limped over to the door, scratching at it. “Okay, okay.” Steve said, getting to his feet. “Oh, you’re probably kinda hungry, right? You slept through dinner.”  Bucky yipped excitedly, and Steve smiled.

“Alright, the kitchen is this way.” Steve said, walking into the dining room. He stood on his tiptoes, grabbing a large bowl from one of the shelves and filling it with water. He set it on the floor and Bucky settled down next to it, making a slightly pained sound as he shifted his bad leg.

Steve walked to the fridge, peering inside. “I don’t have any dog food, but I do have some lunch meat. Does that sound good?” Bucky raises his head from the water bowl, looking at Steve. His tail wagged slightly, so Steve took that as a yes, grabbing several slices of meat and setting them on a plate next to the bowl.

Bucky descended on the meat, nearly ravenous. It might’ve almost been scary if he hadn’t been waving his tail like an excited puppy. Steve raised his eyebrows, then walked back to the fridge, knowing that the sliced meat wouldn’t be enough. “Are eggs safe for you to eat? What about milk? Milk’s gotta be more filling than water, right? But you’re probably dehydrated, so you should drink your water. Can dogs eat fruit? Let me grab my phone.”

He walked back to his room in the dark, grabbing his phone off his nightstand and googling, _what human foods can dogs eat?_ Steve sat on the counter next to Bucky, swinging his legs.

The plate had already been licked clean, and Bucky was watching Steve expectantly. “Bread, cheese, peanut butter, corn, eggs, fish, yogurt, banana, blueberries…” Bucky’s ears twitched, and Steve smiled, hopping off the counter and going to the pantry.

Steve wasn’t actually sure what they had in their kitchen, but he started grabbing things at random. Soon, he had a veritable feast spread out on the plate, looking between it and Bucky. “I don’t want to make you sick.” Steve said with a frown. “And if you overeat and puke on my mom’s floor, she’ll kick us both out.”

Bucky just tilted his head, eyes sad and pleading, an obvious ploy. Steve sighed and set the plate in front of him. He quickly nosed Steve’s hand in thanks and continued eating. “You’re lucky it's not a school night.” He said, walking into the living room and turning on the TV.

He settled on the couch, turning the volume almost all the way down. There were _Friends_ reruns on, and he yawned again. A few episodes in, he was starting to drift off to sleep when Bucky limped over to him, tentatively putting his injured paw on the cushion next to Steve.

“Yeah, Bucky. C’mon up.” He patted the spot next to him and Bucky hopped up, circling a few times before settling next to Steve, resting his head on Steve’s lap. It almost funny, because it sort of looked like he was watching the TV. “You finally full?”

Bucky looked up at him and his tongue lolled out of his mouth happily. Steve laughed and scratched his chin. “Good.” Steve grinned. He curled around Bucky, burying a hand in his fur. The dog yawned, massive teeth flashing in the dark before he closed his mouth and settled sleepily on Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst ahead :(

The next morning, his mom shook him awake, an amused smile on her face. “Mornin’.”

“Mmph.” He groaned, muscles aching. There was a weight on his chest and legs, pinning him down. Steve frowned, then realized that Bucky was asleep on top of him, covering Steve’s body like a blanket. His head was resting in the crook of Steve’s neck, warmth breath coming in short pants.

Sarah chuckled at the two of them and ruffled Steve’s hair fondly. “Get dressed, _macushla._ We’ll get breakfast, then take Bucky to the vet.”

“Kay,” Steve muttered, stretching. Bucky made a small, unhappy sound and huffed loudly against Steve’s ear. It tickled and Steve giggled, scratching at the dog’s ribs. “Get off’a me, Buck.”

There was a dog-like whine, and Steve laughed again, pushing Bucky gently. A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest and Steve rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you big baby. Get up. I have to pee.”

Bucky’s head raised, and those eyes met his. His head ducked down, and he quickly, almost embarrassedly, licked Steve’s cheek before climbing off of him. “Weirdo.” Steve said, wiping his cheek with a sleeve.

Bucky glanced over at him, then hopped off the couch. Almost immediately, he yelped in pain, stumbling. Steve jumped to his feet and Sarah ran over as well, both of them concerned. Sarah gently lifted his injured leg, unwrapping the bandages, and inspecting it carefully. She made a face and Steve grew worried at her expression. “What is it?”

“It's worse.” She said, a frown creasing her face. “The infection is growing, and it's more inflamed.” Sarah ran her hand over the leg and Bucky whimpered. “Sorry, darling, sorry.” She whispered, holding his paw in her hand. It was a little too large, like Steve’s hands. He ran a hand over Bucky’s flank, trying to soothe the dog’s pain as best he can.

“We oughta get this poor creature to the vet right away. I called the animal clinic and they agreed to see us at 11, but I’m sure they’ll see us a little sooner.” Sarah said, pushing her blonde hair out of her face.

Steve nodded, helping the dog lay down. “I don't think he’ll be able to walk. Do we have a wagon?”

“I think Darlene might.” She said, nodding. “Can you go to Sam’s and ask?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, jogging to his room and quickly getting dressed. He put on his glasses, then left the apartment, going down the hall. He knocked quickly on the door of 805, and it opened, revealing Steve’s best and only friend, Sam.

Sam frowned. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Do you have a cart? Or a wagon?” Steve asked, peering a little into Sam’s apartment. His mom was in the kitchen wrangling Sam’s younger sisters, Shea and Sasha, into their identical high chairs. Sam’s older brother, Saleem, was making pancakes.

“A what?” Sam asked, looking even more confused. “Why?”

Steve glanced back down the hallway anxiously. “So, yesterday I found a dog.”

“A dog?” Sam repeated.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, and he’s hurt pretty bad so we’re taking him to the vet, but I don’t think he’ll be able to walk.”

Sam just blinked, then he turned back to his mother. “Mom, do we have a wagon?”

Darlene looked up, then smiled at Steve when she caught sight of him. “Hi, honey. How’s your mom?”

“She’s doing well, thanks.” Steve replied politely. “Do you have a wagon we could borrow? I’ll bring it back later today.”

Darlene smiled kindly at him. “Sure, the twins have one. Sam, could you go get it? It's in the girls’ room.” Sam nodded and jogged back into the apartment. Steve waited awkwardly at the door, begging off Darlene’s offer of pancakes. Finally, Sam came back with one of those red metal wagons, offering the handle to Steve.

“Thanks.” He said, taking it.

Sam offered Steve and hand, pulling him into a brief, manly hug. “Let me know when I can meet your dog, man.”

“Will do.” He patted Sam’s back and thanked Darlene again, then took the wagon back down the hallway.

Sarah and Steve worked together to help Bucky climb into the wagon, and they took the elevator downstairs. There was a small tree in front of the building, and they helped Bucky out of the wagon briefly so he could relief himself. The dog limped until he was mostly hidden behind the tree, like he was attempting to get some privacy. He got back in the wagon and the two Rogerses walked him several blocks to the vet’s office.

Sarah walked to the receptionist and got them checked in, and Steve sat down in the waiting room, anxiously rubbing the fur of Bucky’s ear. One of the nurses came by asking for Bucky’s name, then leading them to an observation room. Sarah followed, and it took the three of them to lift him onto the sterile table.

The nurse frowned, looking into Bucky’s ears and eyes. “What kind of breed did you say he was?”

“I didn’t.” Steve said with a shrug. “I found him yesterday. I actually have no idea.”’

The nurse hummed, writing something down. “I’ll have to ask Dr. Sharma about it, but I think your Bucky’s a wolf mix. That’s why he so large, even though he’s just a puppy.” She smiled at the dog and rubbed a hand over his head.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “He’s a pup?”

“He’s a wolf?” Steve asked, which he thought was a more pressing question

“A wolf mix.” The nurse said, grabbing a blood pressure cuff and wrapping it around Bucky’s non-injured leg. “See these pretty blue eyes? Most wolves are born with blue eyes, but they always grow out of them in adulthood. Only their cubs have blue eyes. Plus, look at those big ol’ paws.” She took off the cuff and looked at Sarah. “Blood pressure is good, he’s a little on the skinny side, I’ll give you a type of food we make for dogs with malnutrition.”

She grabbed a stethoscope and pressed it against Bucky’s rib cage, listening to his breaths. “Breathing is a little fast, heart rate slightly elevated, but that’s normal for most guys who come to the v-e-t. Let me call in Dr. Sharma so she can take a look at that leg.”

She left the room, leaving both Rogerses with the wolfdog. Sarah shook her head, lips pursed. Steve just rubbed Bucky’s flank. Trying to soothe the dog’s anxiety, and maybe his own, too. When the doctor came into the room, Steve shot to his feet. Bucky’s pants came faster, like he knew why she was there.

Sharma greeted them both, then got to examining Bucky’s leg. He barked at her, an actual bark, and Steve frowned, petting Bucky’s back. “Don’t be mean.” He scolded quietly. “She’s only trying to help.”

“This is strange.” Dr. Sharma said, not paying any mind to Bucky’s aggravation. She probably dealt with plenty of unhappy dogs. “How was he injured?”

“I don’t know.” Steve answered. “He was already hurt when I found him.”

“And these stitches?” Sharma asked, running a gloved finger over the dog’s injuries.

Sarah nodded. “I did them. I’m a nurse, for um, humans. He was bleeding a lot, and his injuries were infected. It's gotten worse.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Sharma set down Bucky’s leg carefully, shaking her head. “The infection is spreading at an alarming rate and the muscles in the leg are already badly damaged. The bone is also pretty mangled.” She said. “Even if we were to find a way to save it, he would probably never recover full mobility.”

Bucky’s whimpers were growing in volume, like he could understand her words. “What does that mean?” Steve asked.

“Something's wrong with the injury.” She told him, lips pursed. “If I had to guess, I’d say that he was caught in a bear trap, which are illegal in New York.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Sarah muttered, Irish accent thicker than usual. “Who would do something like this?”

Bucky put his head down on the table, tucking his tail between his legs. Sarah stroked his ear soothingly. Dr. Sharma sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to save it.”

“You’re going to amputate it?” Steve asked, voice a squeaky whisper. Bucky let out a sharp, terrified whine, moving closer to Steve.

The doctor nodded grimly. “I’m afraid it's the only option at this point.”

Steve was blinking back tears as Bucky grew more and more aggravated, more panicked, whines and whimpers escaping him. Steve, unable to watch his new friend in pain, wrapped his arms around Bucky’s middle in a loose hug. Dr. Sharma took the distraction as a chance to slip a needle into one of Bucky’s back legs, and the dog went limp in his arms.

“He’ll be okay.” The doctor reassured him. “I’m going to take him to the operating room. It will be a while. I’ll have Lindsay call you when the surgery is done.”

Sarah put a hand on her son’s back, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you. Steve, come on, love.” She led him out of the room, rubbing his back in small circles as he quickly knuckled away tears. “Why don’t we go get breakfast, ay?”

“I don’t think I can eat.” Steve said, feeling sick to his stomach.

Sarah ruffled his hair, then pulled him close to her in a gesture of support. “Of course you can. You’re a growing boy.”

Steve didn’t argue, just let his mother drag him out of the animal clinic and onto the street. There’s a cafe nearby that’s not too expensive, and Sarah gets them a table. They were serving brunch, and Sarah tried to cheer him up by reading off the pretentious names of the menu items. He ordered waffles, but poked at them listlessly.

His mother sighed and asked the waitress for a to-go box. They left the restaurant so that Steve could pace anxiously in the animal clinic waiting room. It didn’t take long, Dr. Sharma came out of the OR, nodding at Sarah and Steve. “He’s still asleep, but everything looks good. It should take a few days for us to run a tox screen.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, frowning.

“I have some suspicions that the rapidly spreading infection might have been aided by something.” Dr. Sharma said. “Of course, I can’t be sure until the toxicology report comes back.”

Steve nodded, twisting the hem of his shirt nervously and not really listening. “Can I see him?”

Dr. Sharma nodded. “I’ll let your mom know the post-op care regimen. You can go ahead and check on him.”

Steve moved past her into the room. Bucky was asleep on the table, the IV catheter hooked to his right leg, his left leg almost completely gone. There was a bandage wrapped around what little was left. The nurse from before was there, and she smiled at Steve sadly. “He’s gonna be alright.”

“I hope so.” Steve said, tentatively stepping closer. “Can I touch him?”

She carefully removed the IV catheter. “Just don’t jostle his leg.” Steve nodded, gently rubbing his fingers over Bucky’s jaw. One of his ears twitched, and he made a small snorting sound. The nurse smiled, scratching behind his ear. “We’re sending you home with a harness that will help him adjust. Want me to show you how to put it on?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She showed him how to do it without having to move Bucky too much, and helped him load him into a carrier kennel, also showed him which medications to use when. Steve approciated her kindness, blushing a little at her sweet smiles. Still, he couldn’t focus on her when Bucky was only a few feet away  

Sarah and Steve walked back to the apartment in sullen silence, dragging the wagon behind them, full of dog food and medicine. They got back inside, and Sarah put on an old Gene Kelly movie, making popcorn. It was something she always did when one of them had a bad day. Steve made a small nest of blankets and pillows on the floor next to the couch, sitting down with Bucky.

His mom came back with a bowl of popcorn, then settled on the floor next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. Bucky slept at their feet, though about an hour into the film, his eyes opened, a little hazy.

“Oh, hey bud.” Steve said softly, rubbing his hand over his head. Bucky blinked lazily at him, sniffing Steve’s hand. He thumped his tail against the ground excitingly, then licked his fingers. Steve laughed, realizing that Bucky tasted the salt and butter on Steve’s skin.

He reached into the bowl and fed Bucky a few pieces of popcorn. “Steve,” His mom said admonishingly, though she was smiling a little.

“What?” Steve asked innocently, sneaking Bucky another handful. The dog lazily ate them off the ground, drooling a little. Steve chuckled at his dopey face, scratching his ears. “They’re not bad for him,” Steve told his mom. “I did a lot of research last night."

“I’m sure you did.” She said, rolling her eyes slightly. Still, she rubbed Bucky’s side, smiling softly at the dog.

The movie ended and Bucky grew a little more coherent, though not much. Sarah brought over a bowl of water and dog food, and Bucky drank the water quickly, though he completely ignored the food. When he tried to stand, he stumbled a little, then whined, nosing at his missing limb. Steve righted him, careful not to touch where his leg was missing. “I’m sorry, buddy.” Steve said quietly, gently turning Bucky’s face away from the leg. “Try not to lick it too much, okay? We don’t want it to get infected again.”

Bucky made another mournful sound, lowering his head. Steve held his face between his two hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay, Bucky. It’ll be hard for a while, but you’re strong. You’ll be okay.” Bucky’s puppy-blue, drug-hazy eyes met his, and he leaned forward somewhat, bumping his nose against Steve’s.


	4. Chapter 4

Almost a week had gone by and Bucky had been adjusting well. He was clearly a quick learner, figuring out how to navigate and favor his right side. Although, he still straight-up refused to eat the fancy kibble that the vet had given them.

“C’mon man.” Steve sighed, prodding the bowl of dog food. “I promise you’ll like it.”

Bucky made a huffing sound, looking away from Steve and the food. “What, you think you’re too good for this stuff?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I found you under a dumpster, Bucky. Don’t get all high and mighty on me now.”

Bucky stood and walked away, his stride still a little wobbly. Steve sighed heavily. “Fine.” He said, walking to the fridge. “Fine, I guess you just won’t get breakfast.” He grabbed a bagel and a jar of jam for himself, setting them on the counter and opening the cabinet, trying to reach the toaster. When he finally managed to get it down, the bagel was gone. “What the-”   


He whipped around to see Bucky sitting smugly at his feet, half-eaten bagel in his maw. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve asked, throwing his hands up in the air. He was glad his mom was working the morning shift at the hospital, because she didn’t like it when he shouted in the house, and even less when he shouted curse words. Bucky just licked his lips, almost like he was taunting Steve, then walked into the living room. 

“Fuckin’ dog.” Steve muttered, though he couldn’t help but laugh. He shook his head, opening the fridge and grabbing another bagel. This time, he was able to prepare and eat it without it being stolen.

He grabbed his backpack and knelt in front of Bucky. “Alright, Buck, I’m going off to school. Remember, Saleem will come around lunchtime to feed you and let you out of the house. I’ll be back around four.”

Bucky watched him as if he understood. It was almost ritual for them at this point, Steve talking to him and Bucky pretending to listen. “Have a good day, Bucky.” Steve ruffled the dog’s head and stood, walking out of the door.

The school day was as long and boring as always, only Sam there to keep him company. So far, he had been able to make it through the week without getting his ass beat, but that was probably because Rumlow knew he would probably get caught if he tried anything. It would be at least another week before he tried anything. 

Finally, the day ended and Steve walked home. He was about to open the door when he heard something. He frowned. His hearing wasn’t great, hadn’t been since a bout of fever when he was a toddler, but he could definitely hear something. 

Steve knew that his mom shouldn’t be home for at least another hour, so there shouldn’t be any sounds come from inside the apartment. He pressed his ear against the door, listening to muffled voices, and then a laugh track, Steve slumped with relief when he realized that it was just the TV. “Must’a left it on.” He muttered to himself, getting out his key and unlocking the door. 

He took off his backpack, then walked into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Steve almost froze in panic when he realized that he couldn’t hear the TV anymore. He nearly ran into the living room, but everything seemed normal. The television was off, and the couch was pristine. “Huh.” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’m going crazy.”

Bucky walked out of Steve’ bedroom, tail wagging. “Hey, buddy.” Steve greeted. “How was your day?” The dog walked over, nosing at his jeans. Steve patted his head, walking back into the kitchen. Bucky followed him, obviously expecting Steve to share his post-school snack. 

First he rifled through the pantry, looking for his box of poptarts. He frowned when he couldn’t find it, then sighed, cursing his mother in his head. Instead, he went to the fridge, glancing at where Bucky was watching him expectantly. 

“This is mine.” Steve said, holding the tortilla and cheese to his chest. He set them on the counter and prepared them, then put them in the microwave. He pulled out the quesadilla impatiently a few seconds before the timer went off, burning his tongue when he tried to eat it. 

He sat on the kitchen counter, playing on his phone as he waited for his food to cool off. Bucky sat at his feet. Eventually, Steve tore off a piece of quesadilla and dropped it. Bucky caught it before it hit the ground, chewing it happily. 

Steve and Bucky finished the snack, then Steve set to work on his current art project. In class, they were studying color theory, so Steve’s painting was awash with multicolored abstractism, unlike his usual grayscale figure drawings.

Still, he adjusted his glasses, careful not smear paint on the lenses as he spread violet across the canvas. Bucky sat on the floor next to him, like he was watching. Steve sometimes wondered if Bucky was a police dog or a seeing eye dog, some sort of hyper-intelligent, hyper-loyal breed of superdog that only eats human food and has a grasp on sarcasm. Or maybe Steve’s loneliness and need for companionship was making him project a few thing.

“Hello, boys!” Sarah called, and Steve could hear the sound of her setting her keys on the table. 

“Hey, mom.” Steve replied, and Sarah stuck her head into his room, smiling at him.

She was still in her scrubs, and she had that tired look in her eyes that she always had after a long shift. “I forgot to say this on Tuesday, but you didn’t have to clean the house, darling. But I do appreciate it.”

Steve frowned. “I… didn’t.” 

“What? Oh.” Sarah furrowed her brow. “Perhaps Saleem did it? I don’t see why he felt he needed to, but I ought to thank him for it.” 

Steve shrugged. “Maybe we have a ghost?”

“A cleanly ghost?” Sarah asked, amused. 

“Sure.” Steve set down his paintbrush. “Weirder things have happened. Besides, I think a haunting would explain a lot.” 

Sarah smiled. “Like what?”

“Well, the bad electricity and the constant leaks.” Steve said, counting off his fingers. 

“It’s an old tenement building and our super is shite.” Sarah countered, leaning against the door jamb. “What else you got?”

Steve thought. “The TV was being weird today. Like, I thought it was on, but it wasn’t.”

“Oh, of course. That must mean we have a ghost.” Sarah said, unimpressed. She walked into the room, kissing the crown of Steve’s head. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“‘Kay.” Steve said, turning back to his work. Something about it was frustrating him, though he wasn’t sure what. He continued painting, ignoring the uncomfortable buzzing in the back of his head.

Bucky made a small sound, and when Steve looked down at him, he saw that the dog has his head cocked to the side, like he was hearing something that was outside Steve’s range. Then, he suddenly got to his feet, ears pricked and muscles tense. “Buck?” Steve asked, tentatively, gooseflesh raising on his skin. Half of his brain was wondering if he was right about the ghost in their home when Bucky quickly darted to the bedroom’s window and  _ howled.  _

“Holy shit!” Steve yelped, clapping his ears over his ears. It was really loud, and kind of scary. It was a deep, rumbling sound, and almost desperate sounding. “Bucky, stop!”

The howl tapered off, and Bucky looked over at Steve, almost shame-faced, like those dogs on the internet who were caught doing something bad. He hobbled back over to Steve’s desk and brushed his nose against the back of Steve’s hand in apology, then laid down at his feet, tail thumping on the ground. “What the hell was that about?” Steve asked, heart hammering in his ribcage. He pressed his hand against his chest, trying to calm down. “God, the neighbors are gonna be pissed.” 

Sure enough, not even two seconds later his phone buzzed with a text from Sam.  _ dude holy fuck was that ur new dog?  _

_ you heard that all the way down the hall?  _ Steve replied with a wince. He looked at Bucky, who was just resting his head on the floor, panting like he was excited about something. 

Sarah appeared back in the room, hair wet. She was wearing pajamas, and had her eyebrows raised incredulously. “Was that him?” She nodded to Bucky. 

“Yeah.” Steve said. “I have no idea what he was freaking out about.”

Sarah walked over, kneeling in front of Bucky and scratching his chin. “Do you need something, my dear?” She asked. 

Bucky just thumped his tail against the ground a few more times. Sarah shook her head, laughing a little.  She looked up at Steve. “I was going to order in. What sounds good?”

“Uh…” Steve tapped the end of his paintbrush against his chin. “Does that banh mi place deliver?”

Sarah nodded, getting to her feet. Steve followed her out of his room. “I think so. Want to put on a movie?”

“Action, comedy, or romance?” Steve asked, flipping through Netflix. 

Sarah grabbed her laptop, scrolling through one of the local delivery websites. “Hmm. Action.”

He nodded. “Sci-fi, martial arts, explosions, or disaster?” 

“Disaster.” Sarah said, then shook her head. “No, sci-fi. Do you want spicy, medium, or mild?”

“Medium.” Steve told her. “What about Independence Day? That’s disaster and sci-fi. Plus, Jeff Goldblum.” 

Sarah closed her laptop, walking over to the couch. “Sounds good. Food should be here in half an hour.” Sarah was a cinephile, left over from her days as a nursing student, when she worked part time at a movie theatre. She used to sit in the back row of whatever was playing, working on her papers. It was still the only way she could focus on paperwork. 

Steve started the movie and sat down next to his mother. Bucky tried to hop up on the couch, but had a little trouble with it, still to not used to his center of balance being different. He huffed, then settled into the floor. 

Instead of watching the TV like he normally did, Bucky turned to watch the door, tail wagging expectantly. 

Just about when the White House exploded, there was a tense knock on the door. Bucky was on his feet immediately, and Steve stood as well. “I’ll get it.” 

“Don’t forget to tip. There’s cash in the side table.” Sarah reminded him. 

Steve nodded, grabbing a few bills. The knocking grew more frantic, and he called, “Be right there!” Bucky was already at the door, nosing at it and whining. “Hey, move back a little, Buck.” Steve said, pushing the dog back with his leg so that he wouldn’t make a run for it as soon as the door was open.

“Hello?” He opened the door to reveal a young woman with shockingly red hair. She was breathing quickly, like she had run all the way up the stairs and was winded. She straightened as soon as she saw him, eyes peering intently at Steve. Then, she tilted her head to the side, taking a deep breath, almost like she was trying to smell something.

“Hi. Um, I’m Natasha.” She said, flashing him a pretty smile. “I’ve been going door to door. I lost my dog in this area about two weeks ago.” She grabbed her phone, quickly thumbing through it. “This is him.” She flashed him a photo, a picture of her sitting on a field of grass, laughing with a dog on her lap, licking her face. It was large, with dark fur and blue eyes. He was little more healthy looking and a little bit smaller, but it was definitely Bucky. “Have you seen him?”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve pulled the door closer to him, as if he were trying to hide Bucky and the rest of his apartment from this woman. “Um, sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Natasha Romanoff,” She offered him a hand. He shook it tentatively, and he could hear his mother stand. 

“I’m Steve.” He said, then looked behind himself as Sarah put a hand on his shoulder. “Uh, this is my mom.” 

Sarah gave Natasha a smile. “What did you say you were looking for, dear?” She asked, though Steve was almost certain she had heard their conversation.”

“My dog, ma’am. Well, actually, he’s my boyfriend’s service dog. He went missing a couple of weeks ago, and we’re really worried.” She showed another picture, of Bucky in a vest, sitting attentively at the feet of a blond man. 

Sarah pursed her lips, eyes darting over the woman appraisingly, searching for some trustworthiness. Steve looked at her too, trying to figure her out. She looked a little frazzled, and Steve thought maybe she actually did look worried. She was wearing normal clothes, some jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie, though upon closer inspection, Steve realized that her shirt was on inside-out. 

Finally, Sarah sighed, opening the door further. She must have seen something genuine in Natasha. “You best come in.”

Bucky was right at their feet, and when Natasha saw him, she gasped and dropped to her knees, grabbing the dog in a fierce hug, gripping his fur and burying her face in his throat. Bucky wagged his tail, and when Natasha let him go, he licked her face.

“Oh my god, you asshole.” Natasha scolded, holding the dog’s face between her hands, briefly pressing her forehead against Bucky’s. The sweet gesture made Steve’s last bit of uncertainty fade away. “We were so worried. Do you even know what that was like for us? Clint was out of his mind looking for you. We thought something terrible- holy fucking shit, what the hell happened?”

She stopped, hands flitting over his missing leg. Natasha looked up at Steve and Sarah. “What happened to him?” 

“He was badly hurt when we found him.” Sarah said. “The vet thought he might have been caught in a bear trap.” 

Natasha made a pained noise, but stopped when Bucky licked her ear. She turned back to him, gathering him close. Bucky squirmed in her grip a little, but looked mostly content to be held by this woman, tail still wagging. 

Steve looked over at Sarah, who was watching them with a small, sad smile on her face. She put a hand on Steve’s back, patting his shoulder. He took it for the comforting gesture of solidarity that it was. There were a few moments of strange silence as both Rogerses watched Natasha fuss over Bucky, speaking to him in low tones. Bucky was listening intently, head cocked and tail wagging. It was clear that they belonged to each other, and Steve felt a pang of sadness, knowing that he was about to lose the first new friend he’d made since 6th grade. 

There was a knock at the door, and both Sarah and Steve startled out of their blatant staring. Natasha shot to her feet, pushing Bucky and the Rogerses behind her. All of her muscles were tense, fists loosely curled and teeth bared. 

“Woah.” Steve said, jumping back a little. Bucky looked at Steve, and Steve gave him a questioning look. Bucky just stood, stepping closer to Natasha, pressing himself against her leg. 

“It’s alright, darlin’.” Sarah said, placing a hand on Natasha’s arm. “It's just our delivery.” 

Natasha took a deep breath, then deflated a little. “Oh.” 

Sarah walked past her, taking the forgotten bills from Steve’s hand. She opened the door, smiling at the delivery girl and handing her the tip. Sarah thanked her and took the food inside. Steve was already setting the table, getting a water for himself and a beer for his mother. Sarah set the plastic bag on the table, looking over at where Natasha was watching them a little awkwardly. “Would you like to eat with us? I ordered enough for a small army.” 

Natasha shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think-” 

Bucky whined, nosing at Natasha’s hand. She looked down at him and sighed. “Really? Okay.” She looked back at them. “Sure, thank you.”

Sarah gestured for her to sit and Steve got her a glass of water. Bucky walked over, sitting on the floor in between Steve and Natasha. As Sarah passed out the food, and Natasha thanked her, then automatically offered some to Bucky, who ate it delicately out of her hand. Steve laughed. “So has he always been a food snob?”   


Natasha raised her eyebrows, then looked at Bucky and smiled. “Yeah. He refuses to eat anything other than the finest human delicacies.” Bucky made a huffing sound, thumping his tail against the ground. Steve nudged him with his foot, and Bucky pressed his cold nose against Steve’s toes and he laughed a little, because it tickled. 

They ate awkwardly in silence until Sarah turned the TV back on. Natasha watched the screen intently, mouthing along with some of the lines. Steve kept an eye on her. She kept one part of her body parts on Bucky at all times, like if she wasn’t touching Bucky, he would disappear. Steve knew the feeling.

After the food was gone, Natasha stood and offered to help clean, which Sarah naturally refused. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, and for taking care of my guy, here.” She patted Bucky’s head, and he playfully snapped at her fingers. 

“He was the best house guest we’ve had in a long while.” Sarah said with a laugh. She reached out, grabbing Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

Steve nodded at Natasha. “Um, just. Take good care of him. Oh, one sec.”  He jogged into the kitchen and came back with a few pill bottles. “This is his medicine. Uh, this one is the antibiotic, which is twice a day. This one’s pain medication, which is every four hours or so. Um, and this is the soap you should wash it with.” He said, handing her the medicine. She took it with somewhat wide eyes and he handed her a post-it note. “I wrote it all down for you.”

“Thanks,” She said, giving him a small, genuine smile. “I’m glad you’re the person who found him, Steve. You’re a good kid.”

Steve blushed, staring at his feet. “Oh. Um. Thank you.” 

There were a few awkward moments of silence, and Natasha shifted on her feet, the pill bottles rattling. “Well, we better head off.” 

“You have a good night.” Sarah said, smiling. Steve mirrored her, as he often did when he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

Natasha nodded, then turned and walked towards the door, Bucky on her heels. As she reached for the door, Bucky suddenly stopped and turned around, running over to Steve, tail in the air. Steve crouched down and caught Bucky in a hug, squeezing him tight and burying his face in his fur. He held the dog tight.

“I’ll miss you,” He whispered. “Goodbye, Buck.”  Bucky pushed his cold nose into the crook of Steve’s neck, and Steve giggled a little. He pulled away, scratching Bucky’s ears. The dog leaned in and licked a stripe up his cheek, then turned away, jogging to Natasha’s side. 

Steve and Sarah watched as Natasha and Bucky walked out of the apartment.

 

-

 

Steve was not too proud to admit that he spent the next couple of days moping. He spent his days sulking around the apartment, scowling out the windows and avoiding conversation. Sarah watched him with a wary eye, but didn’t force him to talk about it. She comforted him in little ways, like ruffling his hair when she walked by, or putting on historical movies, the ones Steve liked but Sarah found boring. 

The color theory project became the outlet of his frustration. He spent the weekend beating up on the canvas. Sam had come over a couple of times, but he had left pretty quickly after realizing Steve wasn’t in the mood for company. Luckily, Sam was used to Steve’s funks. He’d been an angry little shit his whole life, and since starting T a few months ago, his mood swings had gotten a lot worse. 

His bad mood persisted until Monday. Steve prepared for school grimly, like a man going to war. He and Sam walked together, Sam talking quickly about some drama that had happened between his sisters and some of the other toddlers at the daycare they attended. Steve half-listened, nodding along. 

They reached the school, squeezing uncomfortably into the morning crowd. It was loud and claustrophobic, and Steve had a tendency to get pushed around like a ping-pong ball in the crowd. 

He collided heavily with someone else, cursing as he stumbled backwards. The person he bumped into fell to the floor, papers sprawling. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Steve said, crouching down to pick up some of the books. 

The guy sat up, shaking his head a little, stunned. “My fault,” He said, blinking. “My center of balance is all off.” 

He nodded to his left side, where his shirt sleeve was empty. Steve’s eyes widened. “Christ, I’m sorry.” 

Blue eyes met his, and Steve stopped for a moment. He had never seen this kid before, Steve was sure. If he had met this boy he would have remembered. 

The guy’s expression froze for a moment, then a slow, crooked smile spread on his face. “I’m James, by the way.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know it's been 12 years since the last time i updated

 

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” Steve asked, frowning. He was so sure that he’d never met this boy before, but something about him was strikingly familiar.

James shook his head, gathering the last of his papers. Steve helped him to his feet. “Thanks.” He murmured, stepping close. Steve could feel the heat from his body, and he quickly took a step back, feeling color rise in his face. He held James’ books close to his chest, staring down at them so he wouldn’t stare at the boy’s sharp jawline, or his stupidly pink lips.

“Uh, where are you going? I can carry these books for you.” He said, glancing at where James’ arm was missing.

“Oh, uh.” James fumbled in his pocket for a few seconds, pulling a crumpled piece of paper. “I’m actually new. Do you know where this class is?”

He showed Steve his schedule, which Steve quickly looked over. He smiled a little. “Hey, look at that, we have the same first period. Let me walk you there.”

The hallway was mostly deserted by this point, so they were able to make their way to Banner’s classroom mostly unaccosted. Steve set James’ stuff on the desk next to his. James smiled at him gratefully and sat down.

Banner walked over to them, talking quietly with James. Steve let out a small sigh of relief when Banner didn’t ask James to introduce himself to the class. Class started, and James struggled to unzip his backpack. Steve wanted to volunteer his help, but James successfully fished out a notebook and pen, then started scribbling down whatever Banner was saying.

Steve didn’t really learn anything in Physics that day, or in History, or Statistics or English, which were the other classes that he spent watching James.

He waved him over at lunch, ignoring Sam’s incredulous look. James smiled shyly at them and sat down next to Steve. “Thanks,” He murmured, setting his bag down. “I thought I was gonna have to hunt for somewhere to sit.”

“Oh, no problem.” Steve said, staring at his lunch so he wouldn’t stare at James. “I mean, this is already the loser table. Really, it's the worst possible place you could’ve sat on your first day, if you care about your social standing here.”

James laughed, shrugging a little. “Better than eating in the bathroom.”

Sam looked between them suspiciously. “Uh-huh. I’m Sam, by the way.” He threw a look at Steve. “I wasn’t aware we were accepting new applicants.”

James looked a little uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. He moved closer to Steve, and Steve wondered if he knew their legs were touching. “I don’t have to… I mean if you don’t want me to-”

“It's fine.” Steve assured him quickly. “Sam’s just being an ass. Sam, this is James. He’s new.”

Sam nodded at James. “Where’d you transfer from?”

“Oh, uh, I was homeschooled.” James said, struggling to wrestle his lunchbox out of his backpack. Steve helped him, accepting his thanks.

Sam looked at Steve, obviously trying to convey something, but Steve just ignored his look. “That’s cool.”

“Not really.” James laughed. He had a cute little bento box lunch, which he devoured quickly and hungrily. Steve noticed that he was too skinny. Not like Steve, who had never been able to keep meat on his bones, but thin in a way that didn’t sit right on him, like he hadn’t been eating well. “I was in public school for a while, but then I, uh,” He waved at the place where his left arm should have been. “But, yeah. I’m better now.”

“Well, how’s the first day back treating you?” Steve asked, and Sam stabbed at his lunch tray with a fork, watching the two of them.

James finished his mouthful and set down his chopsticks. “It's… nice. I mean, it's really overwhelming. Loud, really loud. There are so many people, but, uh-” He scratched the back of his neck and blushed, looking at Steve. “Some of them are pretty nice.”

They finished lunch, and he and Sam walked to French class. “Dude.”

“Shut up.” Steve said.

“All I’m saying-” Sam started, but Steve just ignored him and started walking faster. Sam caught up with him easily. “He’s sketchy as fuck!”

Steve flipped his off. “You’re just being ampu-phobic.”

“It's not the one arm thing.” Sam insisted, then paused. “I mean, yes, it's kinda freaky, but-”

“Oh my god, we cannot get into your fear of pirates right now.” Steve said, sitting at his desk. Sam sat behind him.

Sam sighed. “It's not my Captain Hook thing, it's a bad vibes thing. That guy gave me the chills, man. Something ain’t right about him. Plus your giant boner doesn’t help.”

“What? No I- you’re the one with a- shut up.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air. “Dude! You were staring at him like he stole your lucky charms or something.”

Steve gave him a dirty look for the blatant Irish joke. “I’m not… its not that. I don’t know. He’s just in a few of my classes, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam said. Steve couldn’t see his face, but he could tell he was rolling his eyes. “You totally have a boner for him.”

Class started and their French teacher shot them a look. “ _V_ _oulez-vous partager avec la classe?”_

“ _Non.”_ They answered in sullen unison.

“All I’m saying is it's weird,” Sam continued, once they were out of the classroom. “I mean, he showed up out of nowhere-”

“Transferred here.” Steve corrected.

“And he’s homeschooled? Don’t get me started on homeschool kids, man.”

Steve sighed, tired of listening to Sam’s argument. “I’ve got to get to Art, man. I’ll see you later.”

Art was by far Steve’s favorite class. It was the one thing he was effortlessly good at, and something he genuinely loved to do. History and technique were fascinating to him, but he especially loved the classes when they had free reign of the studio space and could just create.

He left the class feeling lighter, his frustration with Sam and his confusion over James pretty much gone. It was his last class of the day, so he slipped out the building, slipping earbuds in.

Sam had to go pick the girls up from daycare, so Steve walked home on his own, cutting through an alley. Of course, it didn’t take long for Rumlow and his gang to find him. He’d gone about a week without getting his ass beat, so was only a matter of time.

“Hey, Rogers!”

Steve sighed, taking his earbuds out. “Shit.” He turned around, seeing Rumlow and Rollins, both wearing shit-eating grins. “What do you want?”

“We just got out of detention.” Rumlow said, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. “Since you turned us in, we thought we’d return the favor. What that old saying, Jack?”

Rollins grinned, throwing his arm over Rumlow’s shoulders. “I believe it's ‘snitches get stitches.’”

“Sounds about right.” Rumlow replied.

Steve rolled his eyes at their dramatics, shrugging off his backpack so nothing in it got damaged. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He waited for Rumlow to make the first move, which he did. Luckily for Steve, Rumlow was extremely predictable, and his first move was always a punch to the gut. Steve ducked out of his way, letting his fist collide with the brick wall behind them. Steve grinned as Rumlow swore, but didn’t see Rollins fist until it had already made its way across his jaw.

Steve stumbled backward, his foot catching on the uneven sidewalk. He fell to the ground, barely keeping his head from hitting the pavement. The wind was knocked out of him, and he had to concentrate on breathing, which grew considerably more difficult when Rumlow straddled him, raising his fists.

Steve raised his arms, trying to shield his face, but the expected blows never came. Rumlow’s weight disappeared, and Steve opened his eyes just in time to see him fly across the alley and smack into the brick wall.

Rollins yelped, and there was a sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then the sound of shoes on pavement.

James was suddenly there, helping Steve to his feet. It might have been the punch to the face, but Steve could’ve sworn that James’ eyes reflected in the light for a moment. “You okay, Steve?”

“I- yeah.” Steve shook his head, regretfully letting go of James’ hand to pick up his bag “I almost had them.”

James smiled. “I just wanted to make it a fair fight.”

“Two meathead jocks versus a chronically ill asthmatic and a homeschooled amputee?” Steve asked, then felt immediately bad for bringing up James’ arm.

Luckily, James didn’t seemed to mind, laughing easily. “You say that like we didn’t win.” He looked over Steve, eyes lingering on the his jaw where Rollins had punched him. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice softening. He was crowded in Steve’s space. It would have been uncomfortably close if it Steve didn’t want to press even closer.

“I’m fine,” Steve said. “They just caught me off guard, is all.”

James glanced furtively down the alley. “Why are you walking alone? Where’s your friend?”

“I don’t need an escort,” Steve snapped, then felt bad when James took a frightened step away from him. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, I just-“ Steve sighed. “C’mon, I live pretty closeby. If it makes you feel better, you can walk me home. Just this once, though.”  

James smiled and easily settled his hand in the crook of Steve’s arm. “Just this once.” He agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, James proved to be just as distracting. Steve watched him with a singular focus that he usually reserved for his paintings. Or Peggy, back when he was hopelessly in love with her. 

He catalogued the way James’ nose wrinkled when he didn’t understand something, how his lips twitched into a half-frown when someone said something stupid, or how he cocked his head to the side when he was interested by something, and chewed his pencil when he was anxious. 

Steve spent the whole day either staring at James or quickly looking away when James glanced back at him. 

“This is getting ridiculous.” Sam muttered, the third time Steve stopped talking mid-sentence because James had done something cute. 

They were at separate lab tables and James was getting hopelessly confused by the way Hodge, his table partner (and in Steve’s opinion, complete moron), was conducting the assigned experiment. There was a lot of nose-wrinkling and half-frowning going on, but James was clearly too polite to say anything about it. 

“Dude,” Sam said insistently. 

Steve snapped back to reality, quickly punching in the data that Sam had calculated from their air density experiment. “Sorry,” He muttered, typing as quick as he could with the bulky safety gloves on. 

“What’s your deal?” Sam asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Are you alright? Did you eat enough for breakfast? Your blood sugar-“

“My blood sugar’s fine.” Steve said quickly. 

Sam didn’t seemed convinced. “You’ve been spacey all day, Steve.”

“Yeah, I’m just-“ Steve shrugged, not knowing what to say. “Distracted.”

Sam followed his gaze to where James was rubbing the skin underneath his safety goggles. He looked at Steve. “Really, Steve? Still with the new kid? God, you don’t even know him and you’re already in love with him.” 

“Shut up!” Steve said, glancing at James lab table to make sure he hadn’t overheard Sam. His cheeks were tinged a little pink, but he was steadfastly focused on his data tables. Steve let out a breath, glaring at Sam. 

Sam didn’t look sorry whatsoever. “He could be a serial killer for all you know.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Steve hissed. “What’s your problem with him?”

The teacher walked by, and they both fell quiet, pretending to work on the experiment. After she passed, Sam made a face. “I don’t know, man. It's just a bad feeling. I don’t trust him.”

Steve thought about telling Sam about how James had saved him from Rollins and Rumlow yesterday, but he decided against it. If Sam knew, he would take it upon himself to follow Steve around like a bodyguard. “You and your bad feelings,” Steve muttered. 

“I’ve been right before.” Sam said. “Remember Schmidt, the German teacher?”

Steve made a face. “You won’t let me forget.”

“Because I’m always right, Steve!” Sam said. “Just trust me on this one. That boy is trouble.” 

“I like trouble.” Steve muttered to himself. 

Thankfully, Sam had a test to make up during lunch, so he couldn’t sit around and judge Steve. James sat next to him once again, smiling that shy little smile. “Hey,”

“Hi.” Steve said, already feeling flustered. “Uh, thanks again. For, y’know, helping me yesterday.”

“It's no problem.” James replied. “They were jerks anyway. I’m glad I had a chance to kick their asses.”

Steve laughed, brushing some hair out of his face. “Yeah, they deserved it.”

James hummed in agreement. They sat in silence for a few moments, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Steve couldn’t help but notice the warmth that James seemed to radiate. Steve coughed and scooted away from him, so that he wouldn’t trying to climb in his lap or something equally as horny. “So, uh, does your mom make your lunch?” He asked, and immediately wanted to strangle himself. That had to be the least sexy question in the world.

“Oh, no. Uh, my a- my older brother? He’s sorta my brother. Maybe more like an uncle, uh.” James shook his head and laughed. “I’m adopted, but my foster parents are both pretty young, closer to my age than my birth parents.” 

Steve thought that James was really cute, the way he fumbled for words. “That’s cool!” He said, way too enthusiastic. “Uh, I mean, it's nice that you’re close with them.”

“Yeah, they’re the best.” James said fondly. He looked down at his lunch, fringe falling into his face. “What about you? How’s Sa- what’s your family like?”

He quickly took a bite of his sandwich, and Steve noticed that the crusts were cut off. “It's pretty great actually,  I mean, it's just me and my mom, but we get by pretty well. I guess we have Sam too, when he feels like coming over.”

“Are you and Sam, uh-” James trailed off, waving a hand. “Y’know?”

“What? Oh,” Steve wrinkled his nose. “No, he’s like my best friend, but like in a brotherly way.”

Rumlow and Rollins walked by their table, sneering at them. “If it isn’t the freak and his one-armed boyfriend.” Rumlow quipped. 

“Careful Rogers,” Rollins leaned over. “The cripple might not be there to save you next time.”

Steve jumped up just as the words were out of Rollins mouth, punching him across the face. He could tolerate a lot of things, but no one was gonna make jokes about James’ disability in front of him.

“Woah!” James exclaimed, pulling Steve backwards by the shirt as Rollins lunged at him. He ended up sprawled on the cafeteria floor, while Steve was pulled flush to James’ side. “Careful,” James murmured, lips almost brushing the shell of Steve’s ear. 

Steve ducked out from under his arm. Rumlow was helping Rollins to his feet, a scowl on his face. He looked at James. “You really wanna hang out with this fucker, new kid?” He leaned in, too close to James. “He’s a fake, you know. Another one of those fuckin’-”

Rumlow didn’t get the next word out, because James had upturned a carton of strawberry milk on his head. He stood there, pink liquid dripping down his hair. “Oops,” James said easily, shrugging. “My hand slipped.”

Rumlow suddenly grabbed James by the front of his shirt, raising his fist. Steve yelped in concern, but James looked completely unfazed, even smirking a little. “You wouldn’t hit a  _ cripple _ , would you, Brock?”

“Mr. Rumlow!” Called a horrified voice, and Steve looked up to see a group of teachers making their way towards them. Rumlow quickly let go of James.

James stumbled back a few feet, then looked at the teachers, whole demeanor changing. His eyes went wide and he wrapped his good arm around himself. He looked suddenly young and small and scared. “I-I don’t know what happened! I swear it was an accident, I didn’t mean to. My coordination isn’t-isn’t so good any more, but-”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Barnes.” Ms. Gonzales reassured him, voice sympathetic and soft, like she was talking to a child. She went to touch his arm, but stopped awkwardly. Instead she turned her sharp eyes on Rumlow. “Mr. Rumlow, my office. Now.”

They marched off and James sat next to Steve easily. “Dude!” Steve whispered. “That was fucking awesome!”

“Ah, people always take the disabled kid’s side.” James said with a smirk. “Nice punch, by the way.”

Steve grinned, glad for James’ easy acceptance of him. “Thanks.”

“For what?” James asked, wide eyes puppyish and adorable. 

Steve licked his lips, looking down at the table. “Just, for not getting scared off. If you haven’t noticed, I might have some rage issues.”

“What?” James said, faux-aghast. “You? No way.” 

Steve laughed, lightly punching his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just try not to get into any fights on the way home. I won’t always be there to swoop in, deus ex machina style.” James teased, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s.

Steve blushed. “I’ll do my best.”

 

-

 

As he left school, there was a small crowd in the parking lot. Steve frowned, walking over to see what was going on. There, sitting patiently in the middle of the crowd and growling at people who were trying to pet him, was Bucky. 

“Buck?” Steve said with a frown. The dog’s head perked up and he stood, wagging his tail as he walked over to Steve. Steve crouched down, stroking Bucky’s ears as he practically collided with Steve. “What on earth are you doing here, bud?”

Bucky made a low woofing sound, licking Steve’s ear. Steve laughed, pulling back. “You’re not supposed to be here.” There was a black collar around the dog’s throat, clearly brand new. Steve curiously looked at the tag. It didn’t have a name or address on in, just a phone number. 

Steve dialed the number and stood, beckoning Bucky to follow him. Bucky did so eagerly, happy to get away from all the handsy teenagers. The phone rang only once before someone answered.  _ “This is Natasha.” _

“Hey, Natasha. It's Steve. Uh, Rogers. Steve Rogers. Buc- your dog came and found me at school. Do you want to pick him up, or should I-”

Natasha laughed a little.  _ “That fuckin’ asshole. Yeah, just take him to your place. I’ll meet you there.”  _

“Um, okay.” Steve said. He wanted to ask something else, but she had already hung up. Steve looked down at Bucky, who was contentedly sitting at him feet. “Let’s go, Bucky.”

The two of them walked side-by-side all the way back to Steve’s apartment building. Bucky seemed to be doing well, stride barely hindered by his missing leg. He kept close to Steve, almost always pressed against him as they walked. 

“You’re just nothing but trouble, huh, Buck?” Steve laughed, but he couldn’t help grin, a warm feeling settling in his chest. He rested his hand on Bucky’s head fondly. “How’d you even find me?”

Bucky nosed at his fingers, tail wagging. Steve laughed, rounding the corner to the apartments. Steve sat on the stoop, waiting for Natasha. Bucky curled up easily next to him, head resting in Steve’s lap. “Weirdo,” Steve scoffed, but scratched the dog’s chin. 

After a few minutes, Sam strolled up, holding hands with Shea and Sasha. He made a face when he saw Steve. “Is that Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, as Sam unlocked the gate. Both the girls ran forward, squealing excitedly. 

Before they grabbed Bucky, Shea pulled Sasha to a stop and looked at Steve. She blinked sweetly at him and tucked her hands behind her back. “Can we pet your dog?”

Steve looked at Bucky, who huffed and stood, wagging his tail a little. Steve nodded. “Go ahead, kiddo.” The twins started petting Bucky in the way in which toddlers handled animals, but Bucky patiently endured it.

“I thought he went back to his owners.” Sam said, frowning. Without looking, he pulled Sasha back a bit when she got too rough with Bucky.

Steve shrugged one shoulder. “He did, but I guess he missed me.” Bucky thumped his tail against the ground. Steve smiled a little. “He showed up at the school to walk me home.” 

Sam laughed and scratched one of Bucky’s ears. “Heh, good dog.” 

Bucky sneezed. 

The girls both laughed as Sam withdrew his hand in disgust. “Looks like he’s got himself a fan club,” A voice called, and Steve looked up to see Natasha walking towards them. Sam startled, and pushed both of the girls behind him. Natasha raised her hands non threateningly. “Relax, kid. I’m here to pick up my dumbass dog.” 

Bucky huffed at her, getting to his feet. Steve stood as well, glancing over at Sam, who was still staring at Natasha uneasily. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna take the twins inside. C’mon, girls.”

Shea and Sasha both complained as they were dragged away from Bucky, but let Sam pull them inside. Steve looked back at Natasha, opening the gate so she could come inside. “Sorry about him, he’s been weird lately.”

“No problem.” Natasha said, then crouched in front of Bucky. She held his face in her hand for a moment and looked at Steve. “So he found you at school, huh?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. I mean, I don’t know how he found me, but-”

“It not your fault that he’s in love with you.” Natasha tugged lightly on one of Bucky’s ears and he growled at her. “Listen, if he comes around again, just let me know.” She stood and beckoned for Bucky to follow. “C’mon, dummy.” 

“Bye,” Steve called, waving awkwardly as he watched them go. Natasha gave him a two-fingered salute, smirking as she walked away. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to do this new thing where I post a new chapter weekly. Novel, right? 
> 
> I guess we'll see how that works out, especially as this new school year starts. I'll try to let y'all know if that changes, but until then, expect updates on Saturdays.

“Where did you stash your stuff?” Natasha asked, and James woofed lowly, starting down the street. She sighed and jogged after him. “Jamie-”

James barked so that he wouldn’t have to hear whatever reprimand she was planning. He just picked up his pace so that she would have to run supernaturally fast if she wanted to keep up with him.

She cursed under her breath, slowing to walk. He knew that she worried about him, and running out of her sight probably didn’t help, but he just ducked into the alley behind the school, close enough that she could track him by scent. He shifted and grabbed his clothes, which he had folded neatly on top of back pack.

Natasha made it to the mouth of the alley, waiting impatiently until he came out, human-shaped and fully dressed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He said, before she could even open her mouth. It seemed to be all he was saying to her these days.

“Mm-hm.” She said, uncrossing her arms. She threw one over his shoulder, pulling him close.  He let her rub her cheek against his head, let his Alpha scent him. “Come on. I left Clint unsupervised.”

James frowned. “Where’s Becca?”

“She’s over at a friend’s.” Natasha answered, leading him down the street.

James curled his hand into a fist, feeling his breathing grow short. “A-are you sure-”

Natasha gripped his scruff, and he instantly relaxed. “It's fine, pup. She’s safe. We made sure. Just a girl from work, nothing nefarious.”

“Okay,” James breathed. Their pack was a strange one, not even big enough to call themselves a pack at all. Sure they had an Alpha pair: Natasha and Clint, but they were far from normal.

Nat was a born wolf from a powerful pack in Russia that had been disbanded by hunters during the fall of the USSR. Clint was Bitten as a teenager and had killed his first Alpha like a hunter, using a silver arrow instead of fangs and claws.

Their only betas were two cubs from the same litter, one human and one wolf.

James stuck close to Natasha’s side, and she held him close. They walked to the apartment like that, both ignoring Nat's worry and James’ anxiety.  

“Hey kiddo!” Clint greeted, bounding over and scenting James. “How was school?” James shrugged one shoulder. The apartment still smelled weird, too much like cardboard and fresh paint and not enough like Den was supposed to.

They weren’t fully unpacked, but Clint had gotten out some pots, attempting some sort of pasta dish. It was boiling over, and Natasha quickly turned the heat down. “I’m gonna go do my homework,” James called out, quickly slipping past them so they wouldn’t try to get him to talk.

He shut the door to the room she shared with Becca, slinging his backpack on the bottom bunk. James did homework for a few seconds, before growing too uncomfortable and deciding to shower. His clothes smelled too much like school, like strangers and Rumlow and strawberry milk.  

Since he’d gotten back, the onslaught of scents were just too overwhelming sometimes. He showered quickly, scrubbing his skin a little too harshly. He wrapped himself in a towel and retreated back into his room, dodging any concerned looks.

Once he could focus, he started on his English assignment, which didn’t make much sense to him. He shared the class with Steve, and briefly entertained the idea of texting him for help. But the move was way too needy, and besides, he’s not supposed to have Steve’s number.

It was stupid, but the only time he felt even remotely human was when he was being Steve’s dog. Being Bucky was simple, easy. He was free from the expectations of society, from the world that hated him. He just got to be with Steve, got to protect him and keep him company.

Natasha knocked on the door, but didn’t try to open it. “You have therapy at 7.” She reminded.

“Physical or the other kind?” James asked, sitting on the floor and leaning against a stack of unopened cardboard boxes. He pulled his knees to his chest wrapping his arm around them. He still felt the loss of his left, but it was more than worth it. He had escaped, had pulled himself free from that place.

Natasha sighed. “The other kind?”

“Nat-” James groaned. He knocked his head against the wall.

The door opened a crack and she stuck her head in. “Can I come in?” James nodded. Natasha came to sit next to him. “Babes, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but-”

“What am I even gonna say, Nat?” James asked. “Even if I felt like… like talking about what happened to me, what would I say to a human therapist?” James scoffed. “‘Oh, well I was captured by werewolf hunters and experimented on and tortured for three months.’” He rubbed his face. “They would have me committed, Tasha.”

Natasha ran a hand down his back. She stayed quiet for a few moments before saying, “You forgot the part where you became a kid’s dog for a week.”

“Dick.” James laughed.

“Are you-” She pursed her lips. “I know what he is to you, but this thing you’re doing is dangerous.”

James shook his head. “He was getting his ass kicked after school.” He muttered. “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to be his guard dog.” Natasha said. James shot her a venomous look and she raised her hands. “I’m not trying to get in between you and your mate, kid. Just saying. You need to be safe out there.”

“You don’t think I know that?” James rubbed his face against his jeans. “I’m not gonna go to therapy just to lie.” Natasha sighed, but nodded solemnly. James relaxed, leaning closer to her. “I know you want me to get better, but I just need time.”

“Alright.” She whispered. She squeezed him close for a second. “Okay.” Natasha got to her feet and tousled his hair. “Dinner should be ready at 6.” With that, she let him be.

They ate sitting on the living room floor, because they had yet to buy a dinner table. They hadn’t unpacked any of the dishes at all yet, so they all ate out of the same pot with take-out chopsticks. Clint set out his laptop, playing an episode of some show that he and Natasha had been binging.

James couldn’t sleep until everyone was accounted for, so he was grateful when Rebecca got home around 10. She was dressed nice, too nice for a casual outing with a friend. When she crept into the apartment, James was waiting for her, already in wolf-shape.

He jumped off the couch and walked over to her, rubbing himself against her legs. As the only human in a wolf pack, she was used to being scented, and unconsciously did it back. “Hey, JB.” She murmured, keeping her voice low, as if Natasha and Clint hadn’t already heard her come in. James sat, cocking his head to the side and eyeing her suspiciously.

Rebecca cheeks pinked. “Shut up.” She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. James woofed lowly, and she rolled her eyes. “Fine, yes. It was a date.”

James wagged his tail. Becca pointed a stern finger at him. “Don’t tell Clint and Nat, okay? They’ll just get weird about it.” James whined, but stretched, belly touching the ground. Rebecca smiled and patted his head. “Good boy, ‘ _Bucky’.”_

He growled, snapping at her fingers. She giggled and jumped away from him, raising her hands defensively. “Okay, I get it! Only Steeeeve gets to call you that.” James flicked his tail unhappily at her, but he had long given up on trying to intimidate his sister.

James went to the bedroom, waiting for Rebecca. Finally, she followed him, pajamas on and makeup off. She turn off the light and climbed into the bottom bunk. James thought it was funny, the way she sort of slept like a wolf, curled up defensively.

Neither of them had told their Alphas about how James couldn’t sleep unless he was in wolf-shape.  He had a little nest made on the floor next to Becca’s bed; mostly clothes taken from his packmates, plus the quilt that was the last thing they had of their mother. It felt safer, better than sleeping on his own bed. It was too new, didn’t smell right. James sometimes worried that his need to sleep on the floor was something he had picked up from his time in captivity, when he would curl up naked on the cold tile, unsure of when the next “session” would begin, but he had to remind himself that this was different. He was with his pack, his sister. She would wake him when he was having nightmares, and if she generally woke up with one hand, buried in his fur, terrified of losing her brother again, neither of the Barnes siblings said anything about it.

“Goodnight, Jamie.” She whispered, one hand hanging over the side of the bed, fingertips brushing the fur of his ear. He nosed into her hand, then curled up tighter, resting his head against the shirt he had stolen from the Rogers’ apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I post this, there are 69 comments. 
> 
> Nice.

“Who’s that, love?” Sarah leaned over Steve’s shoulder, peering at his sketchbook, which she knew he hated. 

He held it to his chest, hiding it from her view. “Mom,” He complained. “C’mon.”

“Sorry,” Sarah put her hands up, not looking sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to encroach on your privacy.” She said, then nodded at the sketchbook. “Who were you drawing?”

“Nobody.” Steve said quickly. “Just a kid from school.” 

Sarah hummed curiously, grabbing a couple of dishes from the table and dumping them in the sink. She ran the tap for a few seconds, but quickly gave up on washing them. “Any one I know?”

Steve shook his head. James had only been at school for just a week, and he was all Steve could draw, or even think about. His infatuation was getting embarrassing, and it didn’t help that James seemed to be always touching him.

A brush of hands, clapping Steve’s shoulder, picking a stray hair off of Steve’s shirt ot wiping a smear of paint off of his skin, then easily laughing like it wasn’t setting Steve on fire every single time. “He’s new. At school, I mean. His name is James.”

Steve reluctantly showed his mother his most recent sketch. Sarah raised an eyebrow. “He’s awfully good looking.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve said, sounding almost defeated. “It's the worst.”  

His mother sat next to him on the couch, tucking her legs under herself. She chuckled, ruffling his hair. “I know that look. I had the same one when I met your father.”

“Really?” Steve looked at her, and she cupped his face for half a second and smiled sadly. The moment was ruined when her pager started beeping insistently. She sighed, climbing off the couch. 

It took her a few moments to find it and turn it off, and she groaned in frustration, then called in to the hospital After a brief conversation, she sighed once more, rubbing her shoulder. “I have to go back to work, love.”

“You just got off an 18 hour shift.” Steve said, concern lacing his words. Sarah looked tired, run ragged. 

She just gave him a warm smile, heading to her bedroom to change. “I’ll be fine, Steven. There should be enough leftovers for dinner.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, setting down his sketchbook. He had been putting off his homework, but he had nothing else to do. “Oh, uh, it's t-day!”

Sarah, now in her scrubs, stuck her head out of the door. “Right. Go get it from the fridge, darling, I’ll be right there.”

Steve nodded, walking over to get the small vial from their fridge. He held it tightly in his palm, trying to warm it up a bit. He had been taking HRT once a week since his sixteenth birthday, so he knew the drill pretty well. His mother came into the living room and prepped the needle as Steve took his pants off, trying to find a part of his thigh that was meaty enough. 

Sarah was a professional, and she stabbed his quickly and efficiently, applying a band-aid that had pictures of Batman on it. “There you go, Steve.”

“Thanks, ma.” Steve said, grinning. Last week, the band-aid had been Power Rangers themed. Sarah stole them from the pediatric ward. 

She offered him a smile and stood, grabbing her bag. “See you later, darlin’. Oh, and can you finish the laundry?”

“Of course. Bye, mom.” Steve said with a wave. She blew a kiss to him and walked out the door. Steve pushed himself off the couch. He had been procrastinating doing his homework and using laundry as an excuse to keep doing so was good enough for Steve.

He walked down to the laundry room in the basement, socked feet stepping carefully on the concrete stairs. It was always hot down there, and it always smelled like detergent. The constant thrumming of machines served as a reminder of how many tenants the apartment building had. Steve carefully stepped over a puddle of soapy water that was leaking from one of the machines and made his way over to the dryer that he was using. 

There were a few minutes left on the timer, so he sat on a counter meant for folding clothes, continuing his drawing of James. He had originally planned on doing a quick generic sketch for his portrait assignment, but the face had quickly taken on James’ features.

The timer went off and Steve hopped down, dragging the laundry bag with him. He shoveled the warm clothes out of the dryer, stopping to smell one of his softer shirts. Steve hefted the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the basement, stopping at the top of the stairs; winded. He took the elevator the rest of the way, taking the clothes back to his apartment and folding them neatly.

He was glad to see that most of the dog hair had washed out. Bucky was a sweet dog, very affectionate, but that left Steve’s clothes in a state. His black clothes had white fur on them and his white clothes had black fur on them.

Bucky had been showing up at the school every day of the week, walking Steve home. It was strange, but Natasha said it was fine. She always showed up to pick up Bucky and she never seemed annoyed. Steve would think that maybe she wasn’t such a responsible dog owner, but she and Bucky genuinely seemed to love each other. 

Steve just told himself that it was because Bucky was some sort of genius superdog who had formed an attachment to him.

“Yo, Rogers!” Sam flung the door open, walking into the apartment. “Your mom called mine. You’re having dinner with us tonight.” 

Steve frowned. “She didn’t say anything to me about… oh.” He checked his phone, seeing the missed text messages from his mother.

 

_ (sent at 5:02) oh bugger, Steve! _

_ (sent at 5:02) i forgot that i ate the leftovers for lunch!!! :(((((  _

_ (sent at 5:03) dont worry i’ll fix this _

_ (sent at 5:06) ok go to the wilsons, darlene said she will feed you  _

_ (sent at 5:07) her cooking is far better than mine anyway _

_ (sent at 5:07) i assume ur not replying because you’re doing laundry. ur such a good boy! _

_ (sent at 5:08)  i love you! :))))) _

 

Steve smiled to himself and set down his phone. “Alright, I’ll be over once I’ve got all of this put away.” He said, gesturing to the piles of clothes. 

Sam walked over, picking up Steve’s carefully folded jeans. “I’ll help.”

“Thanks.” Steve grinned at Sam, leading him into his bedroom. “You can just set those down on the bed.” Sam ignored him and put them in the middle drawer, exactly where they were meant to go. “You know too much about me.” Steve said, exasperated. 

Sam shrugged, laughter on his face. “What, dudes aren’t mean to know where other dudes underwear drawers are?”

“Not exactly,” Steve chuckled. “Hand me those socks.”

Sam winked, handing him the clothes. “You got it, babe.” Steve rolled his eyes, flipping him off. Sam stuck his tongue out. “What about your mom’s stuff?”

“I’ll take it to her room.” Steve said, picking up the rest of the clothes. Sam nodded, flopping down on the bed like the two seconds of helping Steve had exhausted him. 

They walked over to 805, into the familiarly organized chaos of the Wilson household. As he stepped inside, one of the twins ran past him screaming, though he couldn’t tell which one. “Shea- er, Sasha, whichever one you are, watch where you’re going!” Darlene called, setting down a wooden spoon with a sigh. She looked up at Steve with a weary smile. “Hello, honey. Come on in.”

“Thanks for letting me come over.” Steve said, walking to the kitchen. Saleem was setting the table, and handed Steve some napkins to put on the table. Sam started pouring drinks. 

Darlene started shoveling veggie lasagna onto plates, handing one to Steve. “Of course, Steve. We love having you.” 

Sam started wrangling the girls into their high chairs as Steve and Saleem got the food onto the table. Once everything was in place, Darlene finally sat down. “How was work today” Steve asked conversationally. 

“Oh, you know.” Darlene said. “Same as always.”

“Yeah,” Saleem said, stabbing a fork at his food. “Just a bunch of white folks with dreads buying crystals.”

Darlene looked at him, pointing her fork at him in warning. “Watch it.” She turned to give Steve a small smile. “We had a deal on orisha athames today. It turned out to be surprisingly good for business.”  

“What’s a orish-oina, um, what is that?” Steve asked. 

“It's a ritual knife, generally used in Santería.” Sam answered. Steve raised his eyebrows, impressed that he knew. Sam just shrugged, looking at his plate. “Sal’s going off to college next semester and someone has to take over his place at the shop. Mom’s been teaching me the basics.”

Darlene squeezed Sam’s arm gently. “And you have natural talent, baby.”

Sam preened a little and Saleem rolled his eyes. Steve smiled. “That’s really cool.” To be honest, Steve wasn’t a big fan of Mrs. Wilson’s shop. Everytime he went, he got an overwhelming headache from all the sage and incense and candles and oils.

After dinner, Steve helped clean and headed back over to his apartment. 

Sam wanted to keep him company, but Steve waved off his concern. He didn’t exactly like being alone in the apartment when his mother was on night shifts, but he was fine. Steve just took his night meds and sat on the couch, putting on some old episodes of Parks and Rec. He fell asleep curled up on the couch, only waking up when his mother shook his shoulder, smiling at him gently. “Go to bed, darling.”

“Whatimesit?” Steve slurred, rubbing his face. 

Sarah pushed his hair back from his forehead, helping him climb off the couch. “Almost 5 am.” She pushed him towards his room, hand on the small of his back. “You’ll be more comfortable on your bed.”

“Kay.” Steve stumbled off to his room, collapsing onto his bed. He was asleep before Sarah shut his door. 

The weekend was slow. Sam was busy with looking after the twins and helping his mom with the shop, and the hospital kept calling Sarah to take on extra shifts. Steve mostly planned on staying inside, wearing pajamas, avoiding homework and watching movies. 

His depressing plan was foiled by a loud barking outside. Steve frowned, getting off the couch, looking out of the window. Bucky was standing at the gate in front of the apartment, staring straight back at Steve. “Alright, fine.” Steve sighed, though he was secretly thrilled he didn’t have to be alone. He slipped on some sneakers and grabbed his jacket. “I’m coming, stop yelling.” 

He walked down stairs and opened the gate, ushering Bucky inside. Bucky wagged his tail happily and followed Steve into the building. “I know this isn’t the first time I’ve said this, but I’m starting to think you’re a genetically engineered superdog with at least  _ some  _ psychic abilities.” 

Bucky woofed lowley and sat patiently in the elevator. Steve texted Natasha, letting her know that Bucky was at his apartment. The bell dinged and the doors opened on the 8th floor. 

“What do you want to do today?” Steve asked, looking down. Bucky just tiled his head, tail raised. “Yeah, I guess it’s my call.”

Steve thought about taking Bucky to the park, but he really didn’t feel like leaving the house. Luckily, Bucky always seemed content to just sit and watch TV, curled up with Steve. “The crazy thing about the people complaining,” Steve said, as credits rolled on the TV. “Is that they’re criticizing it as if it's a remake.” 

He took a piece of pepperoni off his slice of pizza and tossed it. Bucky easily caught it out of the air. “But it's not a remake. It's a sequel-or more of a spinoff. But the one with Clooney  _ was _ a remake of the the 1960’s film starring the rat pack. And  _ that _ was a reinterpretation of The Magnificent Seven, which is of course the “western” version of The Seven Samurai, which is the greatest movie of all time.” 

“Anyway, yes, I am pretentious and horrible about movies and that’s why Sam will never watch new stuff with me.” Bucky just licked the grease off Steve’s fingers. Steve laughed, stopping the movie and hopping off the couch. He set his plate in the sink and grabbed his sketchbook. 

Bucky looked at him curiously, and when Steve sat back down, he set his head on Steve’s knee. His muzzle was still messy from lunch. “Careful, Buck. Try not to get pizza sauce all over this. I mean, ‘my dog ate my homework’ is one thing, but ‘my not-dog who chills with me sometimes got human food on this’ probably won’t fly.” 

Steve flipped open the sketchbook, going to his most recent drawing. He had finished the drawing of James, and the next page was blank, an empty canvas. “I should probably stop drawing the same boy over and over before I turn into an actual stalker. Two more sketches of him and I’ll basically be Buffalo Bill.” He mused, looking at Bucky. It was funny, because it almost seemed like he was looking at the sketch of James.  Steve scratched his ears. “What do you think, Bucky? You wanna be a model?”

Bucky sat proudly, like he was posing. Steve smiled, doing an outline of him. “It’s weird though, right? Like, when I was little, I was in  _ love _ with this girl. Her name was Peggy. I would follow her around like I was a… well,” He looked at Bucky. “Anyway, we both grew up, and we were really good friends. We even tried dating, back in freshman year. She was my first kiss.”

Steve looked up from his drawing, gazing at Bucky, trying to perfect the way his ears were cocked. “But it was like… it was a kid’s crush, y’know? When we were little, I just knew it would me and her forever and ever. I had this whole life planned out for us, because it just made sense. But when we were together, it still felt like it was pretend. And then we broke up, because… it just didn’t work. And then she moved back to England.”

He pushed up his glasses and focused on drawing Bucky’s tail. “I haven’t really had a crush since, and I don’t really know anything about them. I mean, I’ve watched Sam be infatuated with Rhodey since 7th grade, and that hasn’t caused anything but misery.”

“But… I don’t know. It's weird. With James,” Steve shook his head. Bucky shifted a little from his pose. “I just always want to touch him but I also want to run away whenever he’s around. I don’t really know him all that well, but all I want to do is make him laugh.”  Steve sighed and draped himself over Bucky’s back dramatically. “I’m going crazy.”

Bucky woofed, tail wagging. 

“You’re the best, Buck.” Steve said, voice muffled by fur. “If you weren’t here, I’d just be ranting to myself like a crazy person.”  

It was nice, to not be alone. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating early this week as I'm about to move back in to my dorm this weekend. Expect updates next saturday.

That Monday, when James sat next to Steve at lunch, Steve didn’t move away when their knees touched. “Anyway.” Sam was saying. “Stark’s having a party on Friday.”

“Ugh, Stark.” Steve said, wrinkling his nose. He glared over at Tony’s table.

James frowned, trying to glance over at where Steve was looking. He cocked his head to the side. “Do you not like them?"

“I never said that.” Steve said, but noticed that his face was screwed up in disgust. He sighed. “But yes, I… greatly dislike Tony Stark.” 

As if to prove Steve’s point, Stark laughed boisterously and jumped up on the table. “That guy?” James asked. “He’s in my Intro to Engineering class.” Steve glanced over at him. 

“Yeah. He’s a senior, and I hate him.” Steve said, crossing his arms.

James laughed a little. “Any particular reason?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Dude, you need to get over it.”

“He has more money than god, and thinks that makes him better than everyone else.” Steve told James, wanting to throw something at Stark’s stupid face. Sam just looked disappointed. “He’s a sanctimonious prick, he thinks that he runs this place, and he’s trying to grow that stupid goatee, and no one will tell him it looks awful because they're all afraid he’ll ruin their social standing or something.” 

Steve cleared his throat, annoyed that he’d gotten worked up over Stark. Sam shook his head. “You’re almost as dramatic as that Elon Musk wannabe.”

“We… hate… Stark.” James said seriously, pretending to write on his napkin. “Got it.” 

Sam actually laughed, looking at Steve. “Okay, first he dumps milk on the meathead brigade, and now this? I’m starting to see the appeal.” 

“Glad to hear it.” James said with a smile. “So are you going to the party?”

Steve scoffed. “Hard pass.” 

“But Steeeeeeve.” Sam whined, pouting at him.

Steve pointed a stern finger at Sam. “Don’t use that face with me.” Sam continued to do the face. Steve sighed heavily. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Hell yeah!” Sam fist pumped.

“If!” Steve quickly added. “James is willing to come. I don’t want to hang around alone at Stark’s place when you inevitably ditch me to hang with Rhodes.” 

Sam turned his pout on James. James’ eyes went wide. “Oh, uh... what day is Friday?”

“The 28th.” Steve said. 

James scratched the back of his neck. “It sounds… I just don’t know if my al- my guardians will let me. They’re pretty, um, overprotective.”

“Oh, look at that.” Steve said with an unrepentant shrug. He bit into his salad. “Guess I can’t go.”

James looked between the two of them, a slightly panicked expression on his face. As Sam started to deflate, James whipped out his phone. “I can ask though! It can’t hurt to ask, right?"

“You rule, Barnes.” Sam said, doing finger guns. Steve rolled his eyes at Sam’s blatant manipulation. “How was your weekend, Steve?”   


Steve shrugged one shoulder, reaching over and grabbing a tater-tot off Sam’s tray. “Boring. How’s learning witchcraft going?”

“What?” James coughed, having choked on his soda. 

Sam rolled his eyes, flipping Steve the bird. “My mom runs a Holistic Medicine shop.” He told James. “Y’know, herbs and crystals and all that stuff. We get the occasional Wiccan or two, but it's mostly essential oils.” 

“Sam, last week you had a sale on ritual knives.” Steve said. “Your brother can tell the future-”

“Do tarot readings,” Sam corrected. “And he sucks at it.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying. Your mom makes potions-”

“Salves.” Sam said with an annoyed glare. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Steve.”

“Right, right, keep your family’s powers on the DL, my bad.” Steve said with a shiteating grin. Sam threw a tater-tot at his head. 

The bell rang, and they all started collecting their stuff. “Later,” Steve offered to James. 

“See you!” Sam called. 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll make sure to get back to you about that party, Sam!” James ducked his head and ran off to class. 

Sam laughed and shook his head. He caught Steve’s look and shrugged. “I dunno what to say man, kid’s growing on me. I still think he’s weird, but any friend of yours-”

“ _ Thank  _ you.” Steve said, walking to French.

After school, Bucky was nowhere to be found, which was strange. 

Steve frowned looking around. A passerby even asked where his dog was. After a few minutes, he decided to walk home alone, but saw James standing in the parking lot, talking to a girl with dark hair. Steve walked over. “Hey,” 

“Steve!” James said, voice strangely high-pitched and strained. He shook his head a little. “Uh-”

The girl whirled around. “Steve Rogers?” She was dressed sort of strangely. It was like all of her clothes had come from thrift stores, though if she was going for quirky or cute, she had missed it by a good mile. Her long dark hair was pushed back by a headband, which combined with her sharp cheekbones and wolfish smile, gave her a severe look. She offered a hand. 

“I’ve never seen you around.” Steve said tentatively, shaking her hand. Her grip was very tight.

“I’m Dr. Amanda Rodriguez. I work as a specialist for your school’s special needs program. Mr. Barnes here is a very unique case. I’ve already written several research papers on his many conditions.” 

James rolled his eyes. “Shut up, dickhead.” He looked a Steve apologetically. “Steve, this is my twin sister, Rebecca.” 

“Oh,” Steve said weakly. He could sort of see the resemblance between them. They had the same coloring and similar bone structure, though Rebecca had slightly darker eyes and none of James’ natural friendliness. “Um, nice to meet you. Do you go to the school?”

“I already have my GED.” Rebecca said quickly. She crossed her arms uncomfortably and moved closer to James, though her eyes never left Steve. 

Steve looked away awkwardly, shifting his weight. “So James, did your folks ever get back to you about Stark’s party?”

“There’s a party?” Rebecca asked, looking at James with raised eyebrows. “When?”

“Friday.” James said through gritted teeth. Rebecca frowned and started counting on her fingers. “Don’t worry.” He said, making her lower hands. “We’re not leaving for… our trip until Saturday.”

“Don’t you think it's a little close, though?” Rebecca asked, looking worried. It was the first non-threatening expression Steve had seen on her face. 

James shot her a look that was nearly murderous. “I don’t think it be a problem.”

“You guys are going on a vacation?” Steve asked, trying to ignore the weird tension. “Where to?”

Rebecca gave him a patently fake smile. “Our family goes upstate once a month. Camping.” 

“Camping.” Steve repeated. “Sounds fun.” 

“ _ So _ fun.” She said, fake smile frozen on her face like a grim mask of death.

“Yep. Just tons of fun.” James said, then looked at Steve. “I’ll be at the party. Couldn’t let Sam suffer alone.” 

Rebecca looked at him, something unreadable on her face. She lowered her voice. “James, are you-” 

“I’m sure. It’ll be great, right?” James smiled at Steve. 

Steve smiled back, mostly on reflex. “Yeah. Stark may be the worst, but he throws the best parties.”

“Maybe I should come, too!” Rebecca said quickly. 

James balked. “What?”

“What?” Steve coughed, looking between the two of them.

Rebecca grabbed James’ arm. “Yeah! I’ve never been to a real high school party. Sounds… fun!”

“Fun.” James repeated. 

“ _ So _ fun.” Steve said faintly. “I’ll, uh, I’ll let Sam know.” 

“Good.” Rebecca said. 

“Great.” James sighed. 

“Awesome.” Steve hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I should probably…”

“See tomorrow, Steve.” James said, giving him a tired smile. 

Steve turned heel and headed home. He was worried about Bucky, but the dog showed up only a few minutes after Steve had arrived home. “Hey, buddy.” Steve sat on the steps, hugging Bucky’s neck. “Weird day, huh?”

Bucky made a weird growling sound and licked Steve’s ear. Steve giggled, pulling back. Sam walked up with both the girls. “Awwww, Bucky!” The both yelled, running over to pet him. Bucky lowered himself a little so he could be on their level. 

“Sup?” Sam nodded, dragging two pink scooters behind him. The twins were both wearing matching helmets. 

“James said he’s down with coming to Stark’s party.” Steve told him. 

“Dude, I know.” Sam said, waving his phone. “He texted me.”

Steve frowned. “You have his number?”

“Yeah.” Sam scoffed. “We had a project together in Econ. You know anything about his sister?”

“Yeah, just met her. She’s like… weirdly intense.” Steve said. 

Sam sat next to him. “Intense how? Like Elle Woods intense, or Sarah Connor intense?”

“More Wednesday Addams.” Steve said. “I think she was mad at me? But I don’t know what I did.”

Bucky woofed lowly. The girls laughed, continuing to play with him. Steve looked at Sam. “Can you send me his number?”

“You don’t have it already?” Sam asked. Steve shook his head. “Weird,” Sam scoffed, but texted Steve the number. 

Sam corralled the girls upstairs, and invited Steve inside the Wilson Residence. Bucky sat outside door patiently. “You can come in, Buck.” Steve said, gesturing for him to follow.

Bucky shifted from foot to foot, whining a little. He sat down, looking at them from the hallway. “Weird.” Steve said. Sam, who had finally settled the girls in front of the TV, walked over. 

“What?” He asked, frowning. 

Steve gestured out the door. “Bucky won’t come in. Do you have one of those high-pitched dog-repellent things?”   


“No,” Sam said, then turned to Steve with a slightly incredulous look on his face. “Why would we even need that? We live on the 8th floor, Steve. It's not like we got feral dogs roaming the hallways.” 

“Shut up,” Steve said. He crouched down and reached his hand across the threshold. “C’mon, Bucky. It's fine.” When Bucky just stared at him, Steve stood. “See? He’s acting weird. Maybe he’s sick. I’m gonna text Natasha.” 

“I’m sure it's fine.” Sam said, though he was staring at Bucky. He crouched down, putting one hand on the door jamb and the other on Bucky’s head. “Come on in, Bucky.” 

“That’s not gonna-” Bucky made a huffing sound and stood, walking into the apartment. He nosed Sam’s hand, almost gratefully. “Huh.” 

Steve wasn’t jealous. 

He wasn’t jealous that his dog, his  _ non-dog _ , listened to Sam and not him. No big deal. Whatever. 

Sam stood, then wavered a second, gripping the door. Steve grabbed his shoulder. “Woah, man. Are you okay?”

“Fine, just head-rush. Let’s sit down.” 

Bucky circled them, following them into the living room. He sat on the floor next to Shea and Sasha, watching cartoons. Steve led Sam to the couch. “You need anything? Water? A protein bar? An ambulance?”   


“Chillax, man.” Sam said, pulling Steve down to sit next to him. “I know you’re usually on the other side of this, and it must be scary for you. But it's just a bout of dizziness. I haven’t eaten enough iron or something.” 

“Yeah!” Shea said, leaning her whole body on Bucky. “Chillax, ‘Teve!” 

Sam laughed. Steve grinned. “Fine, I’ll chillax.” 

They watched cartoons for a couple hours, until Natasha texted him. Steve walked downstairs with Bucky, handing him off with an awkward wave. “See you later.”

“No doubt.” Natasha said, holding up a peace sign. She looked sort of tired. 

Steve headed back up to floor 8, heading to his own apartment. He got out his phone, turning it over in his hands anxiously.

 

_ Hey, it's Ste- _

_ hey james, its steve. i hope you- _

_ its steve. sam gave me- _

_ yo it's- _

 

“Ughhhhhhh.” Steve knocked his head against his phone. “I’m going to turn eighty before I send this fucking text.” He stared at the phone, like it would magically compose the perfect text message if he wanted it bad enough.

 

**_(delivered  at 5:56) hey! it’s steve._ **

**_(delivered at 5:56) rogers._ **

**_(delivered at 5:56) it's steve rogers. from school._ **

**_(delivered at 5:56) sam gave me your phone number._ **

**_(delivered at 5:57) hope thats okay_ **

 

Steve held his breath and waited, starting at the screen for so long it went dark. The front door opened, and he startled badly. Sarah raised her hands non-threateningly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.” Steve sighed, looking back at his phone. 

She shrugged and set down her bag. “Why don’t you order something for us, love? I don’t feel up to cooking.” 

“Okay.”  He got up to grab the take-out menus. “What do you want?” 

Sarah waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter, as long as it's got at least one vegetable.” 

Steve was considering the menu for a nearby Mexican place when his phone buzzed. He nearly launched himself across the kitchen trying to grab it. His mother shot him a wary look, eyebrows raised. “Uh… how’s La Mesa sound?”

“It sounds alright. I’ll have the enchiladas.” Sarah said. 

Steve looked at his phone.

 

_ (sent at 6:04) It’s cool _

 

The phone buzzed again in his hands. 

 

_ (sent at 6:05) Sorry about earlier with Rebecca. I know she’s a lot. _

_ (sent at 6:05) And I can be too. _

 

Steve smiled a little, holding his phone close to his chest .

 

**_(delivered at 6:06) dont worry about it_ **

 

Sarah cleared her throat. “Steve?”

“Huh?” He looked up at her. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to call them, or shall I?”

“Oh, right.” He dialed the number for the restaurant and placed their order. He hated making phone calls to places, because it was awkwards and people sometimes called him “ma’am” over the phone. 

 

_ (sent at 6:13) Us barnes twins aren’t great at what the kids call… social interaction   _

_ (sent at 6:13)  I promise we’ll try not to be total disasters at the party _

 

Steve grinned.

 

**_(delivered at 6:14) oh please dont. you might actually make me look cool for once._ **

 

“So,” Sarah called. “What time should the food be here?”

“Hmm? Oh, around seven.” Steve answered. He walked over to the couch. 

 

_ (sent at 6:15) I’m not sure that’s possible _

 

Steve huffed a little laugh, sitting down. Sarah sighed and got up. “I’m going to go take a shower and change.”

“Mmhm.” Steve muttered.

He texted back and forth with James until the food came, and tried his best to ignore his phone while he and his mother were eating, since she had a no-phones-at-the-table rule. Eventually, she sighed, waving her hand. “Go on.”

“What?” Steve looked up from his food. 

Sarah smiled and nodded at where his phone was sitting, face-down, on the table. “Text whoever it is you’re texting.”

“Oh.” He quickly grabbed his phone, then grinned, reading James’ most recent message.  “Hah.” 

“Who is it?” Sarah asked curiously, taking a bite of her enchilada.  

Steve typed out a reply, biting the inside of his cheek. “James.”

“The boy from the drawings?” Sarah leaned over, trying to read the screen. 

Steve pulled his phone close to his chest. “Seriously?”

“What?” His mother shrugged. “I’m invested.”

He could only pretend to be annoyed with her for half a second. “We’re going to a party together on Friday.”

“A party?” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “The setting that has sparked many young romances in american high school movies.”

“It's not like that.” Steve said, blushing. He closed his phone, tapping his fingers against the table nervously. “He’s coming with me and Sam. And he’s bringing his sister.” 

Sarah grinned. “Uh-huh.” The phone buzzed. They both looked at it. Steve resisted the urge to grab it like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. “Whose party is it?” Sarah asked. 

“Stark’s.” Steve said, making a face. 

“Will there be alcohol?” Sarah asked.

Steve finally broke and reached for his phone. “Probably.” 

“Alright. As long as you’re being responsible.” Sarah hummed.

Steve went to bed, though he stayed up texting James. In the morning, he was groggy and had a headache. Sarah looked at him over breakfast as he rubbed his eyes. “If you’re going to stay up late on your phone, I wish you would at least wear your glasses.” She scolded. “You know the blue lights are harmful for your eyes.” 

“Yeah.” Steve said. He texted James.

 

**_(delivered at 7:15) cant wait to see you today :)_ **


	11. Chapter 11

James changed his outfit six times before Becca dragged him out of the house. He landed on a white t-shirt and cuffed jeans, which he hoped would be fine enough. Clint and Natasha sent them off nervously, but they were clearly relieved that James wasn’t on his own.

They met up with the girl from work Rebecca was dating, Celeste. It was James’ first time meeting her, and he was impressed. She seemed sweet, with with a small Afro and lots of freckles. She also had a good, trustworthy scent: the underlying scent was one of a predator, of a creature beyond human limitation; but the main scent was spicy and subtle, like cinnamon and cloves. There was also a hint of something slightly magical, but it was clean, like freshly cut grass, not the rot that clung to practitioners of dark magic.

With Celeste around, Rebecca basically had hearts in her eyes. They held hands and blushed at one another and their outfits even sort of matched, the yellow of Celeste’s sundress the same as the yellow of Becca’s favorite sneakers. It was so adorable it was disgusting. 

“Ugh.” James said, making his protests known. 

Rebecca stuck her tongue out at him, swinging Celeste’s hand in hers. “You’re just jealous. And on your period.” 

Celeste giggled. “I guess it is almost that time of the month.”

“That joke has never been funny.” James complained. He lowered his voice. “And can we please keep all the freaky shit on the DL? These folks are mundane. No wolfing out or… the equivalent of whatever you are, Celeste. No offense.”

She shrugged. “None taken.”

“It's not us you should be worried about.” Becca said. “The whole reason I’m coming is so you don’t attempt to maul anyone that looks at your boy wrong.” 

James rounded on her, teeth flashing. “I’m not fucking feral, you-”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. James shut his mouth with a click. “Fine.” He shook his head, dusting imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll keep it cool.”

“Keep it cool my ass.” Becca snorted. “You have never once been cool in your life, James.”

Celeste smiled. “Like you’re so on top of it, Barnes. Remember when we first met and- ”

“Shh! Don’t say it!” Rebecca said, quickly covering Celeste’s mouth. “Quit licking me, I grew up in a pack of wolves, your spit doesn’t scare me.”  

“You know what, I like you.” James laughed, pointing at Celeste. 

They rounded the corner, where Sam and Steve were waiting. “Heyyyyyyyyyyyy,” James said, then wanted to hit himself in the face. “Uh, this is Becca, my sister. You knew that already. This is her girlfriend, Celeste.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, shaking Celeste’s hand. 

Sam frowned. He pointed at Celeste. “Candles, moonwater, and anise.”

“Oh, it's you! Shop boy. Thanks for that tip about my smudging bowl. It was really helpful.” Celeste smiled brightly. James, Rebecca, and Steve all looked at her. 

After a few moments of shocked silence, Steve tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at James. “You ready to party like a rich kid?”

“Hell yeah.” James smiled. “Where is this place?” 

Steve grinned. “Follow me.” 

They walked a couple blocks until they reach a massive building. James could hear the music bumping from outside, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of his enhanced hearing or not. 

Sam led them inside, and the fancy doorman showed them to the elevator. They got off at the penthouse. “Woah,” Becca said as the doors opened. 

James’ eyes widened. It was almost an immediate sensory overload. Multicolored lights were were flashing, music pounded loudly, the place was packed with people, and the scents of sweat and booze and hormones was overwhelming. Without thinking, James grabbed Steve’s arm. “Holy shit.”

“Stark likes to think his parties are are full of debauchery and hedonism, but it's really just an excuse for a bunch of high school kids to get drunk and bone down at a rich person’s house.” Sam said, the first person to step out of the elevator. 

Rebecca and Celeste followed, and Becca gave James a small shove, forcing him to stumble into the room and drag Steve with him. “Uh,” James coughed awkwardly and let go of Steve. “This is…”

“It's a lot, I know.” Steve said, leaning in to be heard over the music. “If you need to find someplace quiet, we could probably-”

James shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”                          

“What?” Steve pointed to his ears and chuckled. “I can’t hear anything in here!” 

“Rogers!” Someone shouted, crashing into the both of them. James had to keep himself from throwing the person across the room.

Steve looked equally annoyed. “Hey, Stark.”

“I’m so glad you brought a friend!” Stark yelled, looking over at James with a wink. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tony!”

Steve looked murderous. “Is Pepper here?” He asked, clearly hinting at something.

“Ah, the two of us are off-again.” Tony said, waving a hand. He threw an arm around James’ shoulders. “You are way too good looking to have never met me before.”

“I was your partner on an engineering project.” James said, then inched away from Stark. He took the hint and dropped his arm awkwardly. 

“Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Stark said, looking between them.

“Can you?” Steve muttered, but it was too low for anyone to hear. 

“Don’t let me third-wheel you guys.” Tony said. “Good on ya, Steve.” He slapped Steve’s shoulder. James wanted to bite off his hand. He winked at them once again, then bounced off to talk to someone else.

Steve looked miffed, but turned back to James with a smile. “He’s an acquired taste.”

“One you don’t have,” James assumed. Steve laughed, then looked around for a moment. “Where did everybody else go?”

James shrugged, even though he knew exactly where Becca was. She liked to complain that it was weird when he tracked her, but he knew she was never liked to get too far out of his range. “No idea. Wanna dance?”

“I’m not really… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Steve said, cheeks turning pink. James wanted press their faces together. “I’ll just step on your toes.”

“Don’t worry.” James said. “I’m a terrible dancer too.” He wasn’t. Natasha made them all take dancing lessons when they were kids. James was actually quite good. “We’ll look like idiots together.” 

Steve grinned and followed him to the living room, where everyone was dancing. It was fun, to let loose for a bit and thrash about to the music. It was a bit of a relief, letting go of the built-up tension and the feral energy that balled up in his chest nearing the full moon.

Steve looked beautiful, flushed and breathless as he danced, all clumsy limbs and reckless excitement. James was somewhat worried that one of Steve’s pointy elbows would put out someone’s eye, but it would have been worth it for the smile on his face. 

After a couple songs, James realized that he wasn’t dancing anymore, just watching Steve. Like he could read minds, Steve opened his eyes and frowned. He stepped closer to James and stood on his tiptoes to speak into James’ ear. He rested his hands on James’ shoulders, probably for balance, but it felt like he was wiping away Stark’s touch, like he was marking James as his. All of James’ instincts wanted to claim Steve, to pick him up and carry him far away from this place; to hunt for him, to curl up around him as he ate the raw meat of James’ recent kill. Everything was screaming  _ ‘mate! mate! mate!’ _

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, lips brushing against the shell of James’ ear. 

James smiled and shook his head. “Just kinda tired. Wanna get something to drink?”

Steve nodded. They made their way through the crowd, almost getting separated a couple of times before Steve grabbed the back of James’ shirt. 

Finally, they found the food and drink table, where James knew Rebecca was hovering nearby. She was sipping from a red plastic cup as she glared at where Sam and Celeste were talking in the corner of the room. “Hey,” James said. When she didn’t seem to hear him, he took a dorito from one of the snack bowls and threw it at her.

It bounced off her head and she turned to look at him, teeth bared. James waved, smiling cheekily. As the lone human of the pack, she liked to act like the phase of the moon had no effect on her, but she was more wolf than most.

“Hey,” James repeated. 

Rebecca picked up the fallen chip and bit into it viciously. She looked over at Steve. “Your friend is stealing my date.” She pouted a little and looked at James. “Jaaaaaamie what are they talking about? You have to tell me. You’re beholden to me as your pa- your sister. Are they talking about me? Does she hate me? Is she gonna run off with ‘shop boy’?”

James tilted his head to better hear their conversation. He looked back to Becca. “They’re talking about witchcraft.” James said. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Are you dating a mage?”

“Her mom’s a-  _ hic-  _ a druid. But she’s sorta like you, y’know.” Becca mimed ears atop her head. 

James pushed her hands down. “How are you already this drunk?”

“You been gone forever.” She complained, then shot the rest of her drink. “This tastes like lip gloss.” She set the cup down. “Hey, dirty dancing me.” 

“No, Becks, don’t-” Rebecca took a running leap at James and he had to back up. He caught her, but he since he only had to the one arm, he didn’t have the balance to lift her over his head like he used to. They both crashed into a heap on the floor, both laughing their asses off. Steve ran over, alarmed. James waved him off, quickly setting is dislocated elbow and letting his healing factor do its job before hopping up and pulling Rebecca to her feet.  

“We’re good.” He laughed, finding someplace for Becca to sit. Their stunt had drawn some attention, and Celeste was coming over, a concerned look on her face. “Your nurse is coming.” James murmured.

Becca nodded, and then doubled over as if she was in pain. James got up, allowing Celeste to fuss over her imaginary injuries. Steve was looking at him, squinting suspiciously. “That was sneaky.”

“She’s got game.” James agreed. 

Steve looked impressed. He glanced around the party, then his eyes lit up. “Watch this.” He walked over to Sam and whispered something in his ear, then nodded to something across the room. Sam’s eyes lit up and he practically sprinted over to an older kid who was leaning over, trying to see what the commotion was. 

“Who’s that?” James asked when Steve walked back over to him.

Steve smiled slightly. “That’s Rhodey.”

“Oh, the guy Sam’s obsessed with?” James asked. Steve nodded. He had grabbed a handful of chips from the table and was eating them slowly. “Chip me.” Steve casually tossed one to James, which he caught it in his mouth easily, continuing to watch Sam try to flirt with the attractive upperclassman. It took him a second to realize that Steve was looking at him. “What?”

Instead of answering, Steve threw another chip. James caught it again, chewing slowly. “Seriously, what?”

“You just-” Steve laughed at little. “I don’t know why I threw that at you the first time, like I knew you would catch it.” 

James didn’t think it was weird, since they had done this probably a thousand times. Then it hit him that he had done it thousand times as  _ Bucky _ . Some part of Steve had just naturally treated him like his dog. That shouldn’t have been as sweet as James thought it was. “Oh. Huh. Um. Maybe I just have a face you wanna throw shit at? Try me again.”

James backed up a ways. Steve smiled, then threw him another chip. The throw was a little off, but James jumped up a little and was able to catch it. “That’s amazing.” Steve proclaimed. 

“What can I say?” James said with a shrug, then caught another chip when Steve chucked it at him like a throwing star. James laughed. “I’m a natural talent.”

Steve clapped his hands a little. “There’s gotta be a way to make money off of this.”

“What, like ‘The Courageous-” Steve threw another chip, this time like an underhanded baseball pitch. Bucky chomped it out of the air, dusting crumbs off his chin. “‘The Courageous Chip Catcher?’”   


Steve grinned. “We’d think of a better name.”

“I liked the name.” Bucky- James- who was he kidding, he was always a puppy when he was around Steve. Bucky pouted. “It had a good alliteration.” 

“The Marvelous Mouth Man.” Steve said, turning back to the table so he could get more stuff to throw at Bucky. “You could perform at Coney Island.”

Bucky laughed. “Trust me, if I was in the freak show, it wouldn’t be for my brilliant eating skills.”

“Aw, don’t talk like that.” Steve was suddenly very solemn. “You’re not a- James, you’re not a freak.” 

Oh, Steve must have thought he was talking about the arm. As Bucky tried to think of a proper response, but a loud argument broke out, and James could recognize his sister’s voice. He and Steve both pushed to the center of the crowd. 

“All I’m saying is that you should break me off a piece of the action.” Some fratty dude was saying to Rebecca and Celeste. “I mean, what’s the good of making out in the corner where no one else can see?”   


“Ugh, fuck off.” Becca said, looking disgusted.  Celeste was in front of her defensively. James was liking her more and more buy the minute. 

“Seriously, man.” Sam’s would-be boyfriend was saying. “Take a walk.” 

“I’m just sayin,” The guy continued, too loud. “If they’re gonna put on a show, they shouldn’t mind an audience.”

“Okay,” James pushed his way further into the crowd. He planted himself in front of the girls. “You’re done, pal. You need to leave.” 

The guy laughed drunkenly, giving James’ left side an all too familiar look. “What are you supposed to be? Christ almighty, y’all seeing this?” He looked around at the crowd, trying to get a laugh. No one seemed particularly entertained. The guy turned back to James. “You musta lost that arm stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

“Do you always talk like a henchman in a shitty movie?” James complained. 

Celeste sighed. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” 

“Nah, I wanna see this.” Rebecca said, a wolfly smile growing on her face. James shot her a look. She was supposed to be there to prevent him from eviscerating anybody. Still, the promise of violence sang in his blood and he returned her grin. 

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.” The guy said, walking closer to James. “An amputee walks into a bar-”

Steve, the reckless little bastard, came out of nowhere, jumping on the guy’s back. He yelped in surprise, swinging around. Steve flailed off the guy like a kid’s superhero cape. “What are you doing?” Bucky shouted, running forward. The frat bro threw his arm backward, catching Steve in the face with an elbow. The hit loosened Steve’s grip, and he went flying across the room, landing with a sharp cry of pain.

Bucky’s vision went red. He lunged at the guy. He wasn’t even sure if he was attacking with fists or claws, but he set out to  _ hurt.  _

It felt like years and no time at all had passed before he was being grabbed, held back. He shoved the first person away from him, but the second person was much stronger. James could smell another predator, animal and dangerous, but after a few moments her could smell something else on them; the faint smell of pack, of family. 

He stopped fighting Celeste. Her claws were digging into his torso, but the overwhelming smell of blood didn’t belong to him. James looked up at her, and her eyes seemed almost yellow for a moment before Rebecca ran over, nodding for Celeste to let him go. It was so quiet, and for a moment, James was terrified he had killed somebody. 

“Becks, did I-”

“He’s fine, you’re fine, Steve’s fine.” Becca whispered. They were both kneeling. She held his face in her hands, fear and worry and sobriety in her eyes. James tried to look around her to see the man he had attacked, but Rebecca blocked his view. “You did throw Sam clear across the room when he tried to stop you, but now he’s getting attention from the boy he likes, so he might actually owe you one.” 

“Fuck.” James closed his eyes, face crumpling. “Fuck, Becca, I’m not-” He shook his head. “I’m not ready. This moon- I won’t be able to-”

She pulled him close, scenting him. “You’re a born wolf.” She whispered in his ear. “There’s never been a full moon that you didn’t conquer. You just lost control for a few minutes, that’s all.”

“In the-the hunter’s lab, Becks, you-you don’t know what they m-made me do.” He told her, unable to keep the sobs out of his voice. “There was always s-so much blood.”

“Shh…” Becca soothed, rocking the both of them back and forth. He ran a hand over his hair over and over, like their mother, their first alpha, used to do. “You’re okay. You’re with pack.” She repeated this mantra again and again until he was no longer shaking. 

They got to their feet, still with a mostly silent audience. Bucky cleared his throat, addressing the room. “After my left arm was amputated, I was all-right.”

There were almost literal crickets. Everyone was still staring at him in a bewildered silence.

Sam, who was leaning heavily on Rhodey and holding a tissue to his bleeding nose, cracked a smile. “Man, I want to come up with good amputee joke, but I am  _ stumped _ .”

Celeste let out an unattractive snort, covering her mouth with a hand. It set Rebecca off into a fit of giggles, which made James start to chuckle. Soon, almost everyone was cracking up. 

Bucky could see two people dragging the shitty frat guy out of the apartment, Stark directing them. The guy seemed pretty messed up. James swallowed uneasily and walked over. “Can- is there anything I can do to help?”

One of the folks carrying the guy shot him a dirty look, but Stark shook his head. “Nah, you did us all a favor. Jake here likes to show up to high school parties and sell drugs to kids. Plus he harrasses all the girls. Hopefully he learned his lesson.” 

“Yeah.” James said, though the word was mostly stuck in his throat. “Sorry about ruining your party.”

“Are you kidding?” Stark’s serious demeanor all but gone. “This’ll be the most talked-about event of the year! Rogers flying out of nowhere like a fucking spider-monkey! The one-armed-wonder kicking the ass of the local criminal element! It took ten guys to hold you down!”

“It took two girls,” James said. 

Stark grinned. “That’s not how I’ll tell it.” 

“Hey,” 

Bucky whipped around to see Steve standing in the doorway, holding a bag of frozen peas to his head. Sam was standing behind him, with Rebecca and Celeste flanking them. They all looked a mess.

“Hey.” James replied quietly. Fuck, he hurt Sam. He could have hurt Celeste, or God forbid Steve or Rebecca. Maybe he should have just stayed in his cell with the hunters where he couldn’t hurt anybody he cared about. He should just run away from everyone and everything and live as a wolf in the woods.

Steve stepped forward and looped his arm through Bucky’s. “Wanna go get some ice cream?” 

“I- okay.” James said with a nod.

The five of them left the party and walked down the street. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Bucky backstory! Healthy pack communication! .... I promise that we'll get back to Steve POV next week.

When he had slunk back into the house smelling of terror and blood, Clint and Natasha were on him immediately, worry permeating the air around them. It was clear that they hadn’t slept, waiting for him and Becca to get back safely. 

James shifted almost as soon as he had crossed the threshold of their apartment. It was his go-to method of avoiding conversations, but it also brought him some comfort. They had looked to Becca, who gave them a quick recap of what had happened. They were so distracted by James that they didn’t even notice the alcohol on her breath.

She quickly disappeared into her room, leaving James to the proverbial/literal wolves. Instead of demanding answers from him, Clint quickly stripped and shifted, a large shaggy wolf taking his place. Natasha followed his lead, her red wolf shape smaller than either of theirs, but no less imposing. They both scented him, pressing their cold noses to his throat. He rolled over, showing submission. After they seemed pleased, he slunk off to the bathroom.

He switched back to his human skin, climbing into the shower and turning the heat up as high as it would go.

After they had left the party, they had stopped at a small ice cream place, Sam and Steve casually joking about the fight. They seemed in good spirits, and were clearly trying to cheer James up. He nodded along and tried his best to put on a smile, but couldn’t stop the spiral of self-hate that was sinking deep into his bones. Rebecca made excuses for them, kissed Celeste sweetly on the cheek, and dragged him home.

God, it felt like that man’s blood was still on him, like it would would always be on him. It would, in a way. Not just the blood from a guy at a party, but the blood of the cop that Pierce had taken issue with. The blood of the witch who had wanted to leave the organization after she saw what they were doing to him. The blood of whatever random stranger they’d put in front of him during the full moon. The blood of the other wolf he was forced to fight for the last scraps of food. 

That one had been the worst, because he hadn’t been under their control. He had just been so hungry, but so had the other wolf. He didn’t even know their name, he had just ripped out their throat. They had also been tortured, they had also been starved and beaten and experimented on. Afterwards, Pierce had stroked his ears and told him what a good job he had done. How it was clear he was superior, that he deserved his prize because he had wanted to live more than the other world. James knew that wasn’t true. He knew that the other wolf had silently begged for their life, that they offered him submission and he killed them anyway. 

James stayed in the shower for nearly an hour and a half. When he stepped out of the bathroom, it was on dripping paws. Natasha and Clint both looked up, both sitting on the floor of the living room, both still wolf-shaped. James shook himself off, mostly to be obnoxious, then padded over to them.

They hadn’t slept in a good old fashioned puppy pile since he was a kid. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The first night, after Natasha found him at the Rogers house, they had all slept in a confused pile of limbs and fur, his whole pack clinging to him tightly, like he might disappear again if they let go. James had slept human-shaped that night, exhausted after weeks of three legs rather than two. Maybe he never should have shifted back. Maybe he should have stayed a wolf forever, just become Bucky. He could have been Steve’s dog for the rest of his life and been happy, even as his humanity eventually slipped away.

James curled between his two Alphas. They sandwiched him effectively, resting their heads atop him, tangling their legs and tails together. He was almost content, for a while. The nightmares never really stopped, but each time he woke, he was warm.

At around nine in the morning, Bucky detangled himself from Clint and Natasha, walking over to his bedroom. He nosed open the door, a trick he had learned pretty early on, back when Becca thought a closed door would be enough to thwart him during hide-and-go-seek. 

He started towards his pile, when he spotted a small black cat sleeping on his sister’s bed.

They locked eyes for a moment, puppy blue meeting unusual yellow. Bucky wagged his tail curiously. The cat stretched delicately and hopped off of Rebecca, walking over to him.

James tilted his head and sat. The cat smelled of cinnamon and clove and fresh grass, and way too much like his sister. Celeste leaned forward, rubbing her face against Bucky’s muzzle in greeting. She meowed softly.

The lump on the bed that was Becca stirred. James walked over and took her duvet gently in his teeth,  then swiftly pulled it off of her. She woke quickly, batting James on the nose immediately and grabbing the blankets back.

Her hair was a mess and she looked blearily between the wolf and the cat.  James woofed quietly and stood, tail wagging. Becca pointed at him sternly. “Don’t.”

She sighed, and rubbed her face, then got out of bed. Celeste was at her feet, rubbing herself against Becca’s legs affectionately. Becca smiled and opened the window. The cat jumped to the sill mewed softly. Rebecca glanced over at James, then, face red, leaned down and rubbed Celeste’s ears affectionately. Then, the cat walked out to the fire escape, climbing down and jumping onto the street.

James walked into the closet and shifted, quickly pulling on a pair of pants. “Your girlfriend’s a werecat?”

“There’s no such thing.” Rebecca said haughty. “She’s a matagot.” 

“I always knew you’d be a cat lady.” James said smugly. 

Becca emphatically flipped him off, sitting back on her bed. “Put a goddamn shirt on, dogbreath.” As he grabbed a relatively clean shirt from the floor, she sighed and laid back down. “And... don’t tell the Alphas? Please?”

“I won’t tell them that you got drunk last night and slept with a matador, you got it.” James tried to do a finger gun, but he was already struggling to pull on his shirt and got stuck. 

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Matagot.” She corrected. “And we didn’t  _ sleep _ together, we just…” She shrugged, a small smile on her face. “Slept together.” 

“Ew.” James stated. “Put that lovesick face away. You’re gonna give me a cavity.” 

He ducked as Becca threw a pillow at him.”I’m gonna go start a pot of coffee.” 

James nodded, though he didn’t really know why. Rebecca quietly shut the door, giving him a moment of privacy. He scratched the mostly healed space where his arm used to be. James wanted to take 12 more showers, but that would probably be excessive. 

Instead, he threw himself onto his pile stolen clothes, burying his face in Steve’s shirt. There was something caught in his throat, a sigh or a scream or something else entirely. He breathed in Steve’s scent, forcing himself to relax. 

There was a soft knock on the door, Natasha’s. She didn’t used to knock softly, she didn’t used to knock at all, but she’s careful around James these days. He sat up, shoving some of the clothes under the bed. “Come in,”

The door opened, and Natasha stuck her head in, Clint hovering anxiously behind her. “Hey, James.”

“Hey,” James sighed. They had been putting off this talk, and after last night, it's necessary. As they walked into the room, he could see Becca in the kitchen giving him a sympathetic look. “What’s up?”

Clint immediately sat on the floor next to him, leaning over to scent him. James bared his throat, letting the soft stubble of Clint’s face scrape over his skin. Clint as a bitten wolf, had more trouble controlling his more animal instincts around the full moon. Still, the gesture was comforting enough that James wanted to shift and curl up in his lap and stay there a while. It wasn’t a normal, human need, or even one he’s felt since he was a child, but James wanted to be held by his Alphas, to feel protected and safe.

Natasha silently folded her legs underneath her, sitting next to James. She was much more restrained in her scenting of him, though it was still just as desperate. 

He knew that his absence had been hellish on them. The pack bond was enough for them to know he was alive, but it waned over time. Each moon cycle that passed without seeing one’s pack pushed one closer and closer to being a lone wolf. Each moon that passed, they were less and less sure if James was okay. Weakening the bond hurt the pack as a whole, not just the wolf itself. 

“What happened, Jamie?”

“There was a fight. Some guy,” James waved his hand. “Was harassing Becks and her date. It was supposed to be fine. I had it locked down.”

Clint nodded patiently. “But?” 

“Fucking-” James pushed his hair out of his face. “Steve tried to get involved. He got hurt and I-I…” He trailed off, shaking his head

“You lost control.” Natasha said. James nodded, staring at his hand miserably. “James, look at me.” She tipped his chin up with her index finger, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Do you think I’m strong?”

James frowned. “What?”

“Do you think I’m strong? That I possess the qualities of a good Alpha, that I have control over myself and my pack?” She said.

“Of course.” James said quickly. “Nat, you’re like, the most powerful wolf I’ve ever met.”

Natasha nodded, dropping her finger. “I’ve been an Alpha for a very long time.” She said. “And I managed to stay hidden from hunters my whole life through finely distinguishing where wolf and woman intersect. I  _ never  _ lose control, because for me that’s the difference between life and death.”

“Okay, I get it, I fucked up.” James said sullenly. 

Natasha shook her head. “You’re not listening, Jamie. Because I once nearly removed Barney’s leg and beat him to death with it.”

“Clint’s jackass brother?” James asked with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” Clint said with a small smile. “It was a little after we first met. I was still a new wolf, and the mating bond was confusing and scary to me. I was totally avoiding Nat, and she was giving me space.” 

“That’s what I told him, anyway.” Natasha added, giving Clint a matching sweet smile. She looked back at James. “You know how you’ve been stalking Steve in wolf form and I haven’t said anything about it because I’m worried about you and I thought bringing it up would do more harm than good?”

James blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“I was doing the same thing to Clint.” She replied, smile looking a little sharp. “I mean, I wasn’t pretending to be his dog, I was just stalking him. One day, Clint got in an argument with his brother and Barney pushed him.”

“Barely.” Clint interjected. “He  _ barely _ pushed me. And I could take care of myself, I was a fucking werewolf.”

“But it didn’t matter.” Natasha said. “He laid a hand on my mate. I wanted to maul him.”

Clint laughed. “I had to drag her off of him and keep him from going for the shotgun. After everyone was calmed down, I had to explain some things to him.” 

James smiled. Natasha rubbed his back. “I remember what it was like, to first meet your mate.”

“And it's harder for you, since he’s human.” Clint said. “He doesn’t have the same instincts as you.”

“It’s not just-“ James frowned, twisting his shirt anxiously. “I know I haven’t been… communicative about my time… away.” 

Clint shifted uneasily, and Natasha’s hand on his back faltered. “You don’t have to-“

“No, it's, um.” James shook his head. “I don’t think I can run with you this full moon. I-I think it would be dangerous. Maybe the Midtown pack can put me up for the night. I know they have a lot of bitten.”

The Alphas exchanged looks. Natasha cleared her throat. “I can call Logan if you want, but do you really think being chained up is the best thing for you right now?” 

“They, um,” James chewed his lip. “At the beginning, they kept me from shifting for weeks, deprived me from moonlight, and then let me loose on the first full moon.” He clenched and unclenched his fist in time with his breaths. “They wanted to see how it would effect me, combined with the conditioning and-and the trigger scent.” 

Clint reached over and pried his hand open. James’ claws had grown without him noticing, drawing blood from his palm. “There was this person there, I don’t know if he worked for them, if he was bait, or just passing by.” He shook his head again, like he was trying to shake the memory out of his head. “They told me to get him, and I didn’t even think. I just tore him to pieces.” 

“James,” Natasha replied softly, running a hand over his head. “They don’t have you anymore. I know, I  _ know  _ that no matter how much anyone is would like to pretend otherwise, your... time ‘away’ has changed you, and you’re never going to be the same. But, you’re going to get better. You’re going to grow and you’re going to overcome, and you’re going to come out the other side as a stronger person.” 

“You don’t have to go upstate with us this weekend if you don’t want, but don’t stop yourself from going because you think you can’t.” Clint said. “For a long time after I was bitten, I didn’t accept my wolf as a part of me. I denied it for so long that I almost went feral.” 

Natasha smiled, wrapping an arm around James’ shoulders. “Maybe a run with us will do you some good.”

“Maybe.” James drew his knees to his chest. Maybe it would. Maybe a full moon with his pack will finally be the thing that makes him whole again. Or maybe it'll be the thing that finally makes him break down completely.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve’s mom was working night shift, which meant he was all alone in the apartment, which he hated. It always took him forever to fall asleep, and even when he managed it, he slept lightly. 

So when he heard a scratching at the door, he jumped out of bed, heart racing. 

He dove for the bat he kept underneath the bed, wielding it anxiously as he stepped out into the living room. The menacing effect of the weapon was probably lessened by the fact that he was only wearing too-big pajama pants that pooled around his ankles. 

“This is stupid.” He whispered to himself, unaware if he was referring to his own nerves or the idea that he would be able to take own an attacker by his skinny, chronically ill, self. 

He stood on his tiptoes and glanced out the peep-hole, then sighed, dropping the bat to the side. He unlocked the door and opened it, leaning down. “Hey, Buck. How’d you get up here?”

Bucky just whined, shifting from foot to foot. Steve opened the door the rest of the way. “Come on in.” As Bucky padded inside, Steve frowned and glanced down the hallway. “How  _ did  _ you get up here?” Unless the dog had suddenly learned to operate elevators or had grown opposable thumbs, it was pretty weird for him to be on the eighth floor of his building. 

Steve shuddered anxiously, shutting the door and locking the deadbolt. “Weird.”

Bucky was hovering, mere inches away from Steve’s leg. Steve smiled down at him, then gestured for him to follow. He climbed back in bed, and Bucky set his front paw on the bed, and Steve nodded. “C’mon up.” 

Bucky jumped onto the bed, turning around a couple times before laying down. Steve curled around him, and Bucky made a small huffing sound, pressing his cold nose against Steve’s bare shoulder. 

Steve fell asleep almost instantly. 

-

 

“Hey, you’re back!” Steve said, setting his things down on the desk next to James. “How was the camping trip?”

James smiled, scratching the back of his neck. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, rocking close to Steve.  “Uh, pretty good, actually.” He looked more well rested than he had in awhile. 

Steve was growing so used to James’ physical closeness that he didn’t even feel that flustered when he could feel James’ body heat. He seemed happier, lighter somehow. It was a relief. Steve had been worried, after the party. He hadn’t actually seen the fight; embarrassingly, he had passed out when he hit his head, but he’d heard plenty about it.  “Good.” Steve said, grinning down at his notebook. 

Banner started lecturing, and they both shifted their attention to him. 

Steve glanced over at James, watching the muscles of his forearm twitch as he scribbled notes. It was strange, how he didn’t have a scratch on him. The way Sam and Tony had told it, the fight had been brutal. 

Sam and Steve had both gotten banged up, and neither of them were in the thick of it. They had sat together on Saturday morning as both of their mothers fussed over them, Sarah checking them for concussions and fractures as Darlene spread a poultice over their bruises. It was like they were little kids again, always getting into trouble and worrying their parents. 

“What is it?” James whispered, eyes darting over to Steve. Steve flushed pink, realizing he had been staring too long. 

He shook his head. “Nothing,” Steve replied quietly. “Tell you later.” 

James stayed close by through the classes they shared together, though he didn’t say much. He smiled every time Steve met his eyes, and when he walked next to Steve, their fingers often brushed. There was a strange sort of electricity surrounding him, different than anything Steve had felt before. 

“You’re back,” Sam acknowledged, sitting across from James at the lunch. James looked somewhat sheepish. 

“Hey.” James offered. “How’s your face?”

“Ruggedly handsome, same as always.” Sam said, dipping a tater-tot in a weird hot-sauce-and-mayonnaise mixture.  His nose was still bruised, but it was looking considerably better. He looked up, catching sight of James’ puppy eyes. Sam sighed. “I’m fine, J-Man. Don’t worry about it. These shiners even managed to get me some special attention from the ladies and fellas.” 

“I’m really sorry.” James told him softly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.  _ I  _ shouldn’t have hurt you. If you want to punch me in the face, I’ll totally let you.” 

Sam laughed, tossing a tater-tot at James. He didn’t catch it in his mouth like he did when Steve threw food at him. It just fell sadly onto the table. “You’re cool, man. Rain-check on that face-punch.”

That managed to get a small laugh out of James, who picked up the abandoned tater-tot and took a small bite. “Alright.”

“C’mon.” Steve said quietly, bumping his shoulder against James’. “Show Sam how good you are at food-catching.” 

After the lunch bell rang and they started to collect their things to go to class. “Oh, um.” James grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him to the side. “I was wondering, um.” He chewed on his lip in a way that shouldn’t be so attractive. “So, there’s this theatre in Clinton Hill that’s doing a Kurosawa marathon this weekend.”

“What?” Steve said. “I love Kurosawa!” 

James grinned, leaning in slightly. “Would you like to go with me?"

“Of course! That sounds totally awesome.” Steve bounced a little on the balls of his feet in excitement. 

James grinned, squeezing Steve’s arm for a moment, then dropping it. “Thanks. Uh, see you after school. I mean, tomorrow! See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you!” Steve hugged his books to his chest and ran off, grinning stupidly. 

When he got home, Bucky at his side, his mother gave him an odd look. “You seem happy.”

“Hm?” Steve was already in the kitchen, digging in the pantry for pop tarts. He broke one in half and fed the smaller side to Bucky. “Oh. Well. It was a good day.” 

Sarah patted the sofa. “Tell me about it.” Steve shrugged off his bag and walked to the living room. Bucky curled up at their feet contently as Steve sat cross legged next to his mother. 

“Not much to tell. Just… y’know. It was nice.” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat. 

Sarah reached over and broke off a corner of his pop tart, somehow managing to eat it sarcastically. “Nice?”

“Yep. Just a… nice Wednesday. That’s all.” Steve hummed, avoiding eye contact. “Oh, hey! Homework.” 

He started to get up and she grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Tell me.” 

“Fine.” Steve huffed, brushing some hair out of his face. “You know James? The, uh, the boy that…  _ the  _ boy?”

Sarah’s grin widened. “Yes, I’m familiar.”

“He… might have, askedmetogotothemovieswithhimthisweekend.” Steve said in an embarrassed rush. “I think it might be a date?” His voice squeaked at the end of the sentence, and he quickly buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”  

Bucky got to his feet, tail wagging. He pressed his nose against Steve’s bony wrists, and Steve sighed, wrapping his arms around his neck. Sarah looked delighted. “Steve, that’s brilliant! I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to meet this young man.” 

The rest of the week went smoothly, save for Sam and his mother interrogating him about his maybe-date. James and Steve continued to text each other when they weren’t in school and send each other shy looks when they were. 

James agreed to pick Steve up at his apartment on Friday night, mostly so Sarah would be able to fuss over both of them. 15 minutes before the agreed upon time, Steve was running around the apartment like a whirlwind, grabbing different items of clothing and trying them on for his mother’s approval. They landed on a black knit sweater and jeans, and Steve anxiously pulled at his sleeves. 

As soon as there was a polite knock on the door, Steve jumped up, running over to answer it. Sarah beat him, pulling open the door with a sweet smile. “You must be James.”

“Um. Yes ma’am.” James was pink-cheeked, and he brandished a bouquet of sunflowers. “These are for you.” 

She melted, putting one hand over her heart. “Aw, my dear! You are too sweet, come in.” She took the flowers gently. “Let me put these in some water.”

“Hi.” Steve said quietly, waving.

James grinned and relaxed a little, walking over to his side. “Hey,” He whispered, bumping on their shoulders together. “You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, let me grab my keys.” Steve said, collecting his things and kissing his mother on the cheek. 

She held his chin between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled at him proudly. “Look at you.”

“Mom,” He complained, blushing. 

She sniffled dramatically, turning back to the bouquet. “My little boy.”

“Oh my god.” He covered his face, not daring to look back at James. 

“All grown up!” Sarah cried, clearly putting on a show. 

“Okay, we’re leaving now.” Steve said, walking over to James and grabbing his wrist. “Bye, ma!” He dragged James, who was laughing quietly laughing, out of the apartment and down the hallway. 

“Sa- your mom seems awesome.” James said as they waited for the elevator. “It was really nice to meet her face-to-face.” 

“She’s the best.” Steve agreed.

They talked a little about their families as they started walking down the street. James talked a little about his guardians, and about how Celeste has been sneaking in at night and Rebecca has been kicking him out of their room, even though they never do more than cuddle. 

Steve had never been to this theater before. It was relatively small, with retro decorations and uniformed staff. The building was old, and smelled the way most movie theaters smelled. James flashed their tickets at the front, and Steve pulled him over to the concession stand. “C’mon, I’ll buy.” He said, leaning over the counter. “Do you want popcorn?”   


James wrinkled his nose a little. “Um. I don’t really like it.”   


“What?” Steve turned around to look at him with astonishment. “How? Why?”

He shrugged helplessly. “It gets all stuck in your teeth and tastes all chemically, like fake butter and salt.” 

“I guess.” Steve said. “But that’s kinda the point, right?”

James laughed a little. “What? Why would it be the point? It's gross and inconvenient.”

“It's an imperfect food.” Steve agreed thoughtfully. “But that’s why we only eat it when we watch movies. It's there as to ground the viewer.”

James shook his head, snickering. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know.” Steve laughed. He turned to the girl at the counter, who looked bored by their conversation. “One small popcorn and a diet coke. And…” He looked back at James, who leaned forward, pressing himself close to Steve’s back.

“A um, a large blue slushee.” James said.

Steve whirled around. “A blue slushee?”

“What? It's good?” James said defensively. 

“You  _ just  _ said that popcorn tasted too chemically!” Steve said, throwing his hands in the air. “There’s no such thing as a blue raspberry, James. It's a fake flavor made by food coloring and…and chemicals!” 

James grinned. “It tastes blue. I like it.” 

“That’ll be $12.45.” The girl said, and Steve winced, fishing for his wallet. 

The first movie was  _ Ran _ , and the second was  _ Yojimbo.  _ Kurosawa made long movies, so there were bathroom breaks in between. James got more snacks for them after  _ Throne of Blood;  _ a box of Sour Patch Kids for Steve and Junior Mints for himself and two blue slushies for both of them. The last movie was  _ Seven Samurai.  _ It was Steve’s favorite film, and probably the best movies ever made, so it was saying a lot that Steve lost all focus as James’ hand brushed against his. 

Feeling bold, Steve slowly lifted his pinkie, twining it in between James’ fingers. He glanced sideways at James, who seemed to be staring at the screen with rapt attention. Still, Steve could feel James’ pulse against his skin, and it was thrumming quickly. James tilted his hand, allowing Steve to slide the rest of his fingers between his. 

Holding hands shouldn’t make Steve feel this way. It was stupid, how his skin prickled and his breath shallowed and his heart raced. He was hyperaware of the coldness of his fingers as they rested against James’ warm, dry skin. 

The movie ended, and they stood, walking out of the theater. “That was amazing!” James said. “I mean, I think the Macbeth one was my favorite, but holy shit, Seven Samurai was brilliant.”   


“You’ve never seen it before?” Steve asked.

James shook his head. “No, I but you said he was the greatest filmmaker of all time, and I’m inclined to believe.”

It was dark outside, and Steve shivered a little. Before he could over think it, he stood close to James, pressing against left side, wrapping his arm around his waist. He sort of smelled good, like maple syrup. James smiled and looked down at him. “I- thanks for coming with me tonight, Steve. I had fun.”

“Me too.” Steve said quietly. “We should, uh, we should do this again.” It felt cliche and stupid, but James looked pleased. 

Steve’s heart clenched, and he stopped. James stopped to, looking worried. “What is it?” Steve turned to face him with a small smile. He stood on his tiptoes, grabbing the collar of James’ shirt. He gave James a moment to move away, but he just leaned in, leaving millimeters of space between their lips.

Steve closed the gap, kissing James. James smiled against his lips, and one of Steve’s hands twined into his hair, kissing him deeper.

They parted with a small breath, smiling at each other, noses brushing. Steve licked his lips, then pressed another quick kiss against the corner of James’ mouth. He rocked back on his heels. “You taste blue.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't let them have one good moment.

James breathed a quick laugh, resting his forehead against Steve’s. Steve smiled, running the tips of fingers along James’ jaw. James shivered slightly. He wanted to lean in a scent mark Steve and bare his throat in turn. Instead, he turned and brushed his lips against Steve’s fingers. 

Steve pulled back, cheeks flushed, even in the cool night air. “Well,”

“Yeah?” James asked, unable to keep the self-satisfied grin off his face as he could smell Steve’s spicy arousal. He cocked his head to the side, puppyish and adoring. 

Steve glanced down, taking a step closer until they were pressed chest-to-chest. He looked up at James and it took his breath away, how beautiful Steve was in the low light; gamine in his bone structure and golden in his coloring. James wanted him more than he wanted anything in his life, more than he ached for the moon when he was caged away. “Yeah,” Steve breathed, standing on his tiptoes and kissing James’s cheek and twining their fingers together. 

Their noses bumped together, and James reluctantly took a step back. “It's getting late.” He said, voice coming out softer than a whisper. “We should get you home.”

They started walking back towards Steve’s apartment, chatting easily about the movies. James couldn’t help but grin as they walk. The closeness and warmth of Steve at his side was all that he could ask for. He had to physically keep himself from burying his face in Steve’s hair. 

Everything was so perfect, and all he could think about was the kissing Steve again, so when the smell of rot and predator reached his senses, he was so distracted that he almost missed it. 

“But Empire is so much darker! It really starts to tie the trilogy together!” Steve protested. 

“Yeah, but New Hope is just the-” James froze, hackles rising. He sniffed the air, looking for the source. Steve gripped his side, frowning. “James?”

“I-” James looked around wildly. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He could feel his claws growing out of instinct. 

Steve’s instincts were good enough that he was now on edge. “What’s wrong?” They were cutting through an alley with a streetlight at the mouth, and it was almost impossible to see anything.

“Steve, get behind me.” His voice was gruffer, more of a growl as fangs pierced his gums. He curled his fist at his side, stepping in front of Steve protectively, trying to listen for whoever was there. 

There were two different bodies, two different breathing patterns; one rugged and pained and the other easy and calm; two different sets of footsteps, one dragging and slow and the other the soft click of expensive shoes on pavement. 

There was only one heartbeat. Only one rotting scent. 

“Little pig, little pig won’t you let me come in?" A sing-songy voice called. James shuddered with fear. He knew that voice, that distinct lack of scent.

"No, no, no, by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin." The same voice continued, though with an added gruffness. 

Steve was pressed against James’ back. “What the everloving fuck.” He whispered. 

"Then I’ll huff.” Step. “And I’ll puff.” Step. “And I’ll blow your house in."

Pierce stood under the light, grinning smugly at both of them. He looked as impeccable as always, wearing a suit and holding a leash. “Hello, soldier. Long time no see.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Steve stood on his toes, peering over James’ shoulder. “Fuck off, you nutso dickbag.” His Brooklyn accent was more pronounced, and it would have been comical if they weren’t in immediate danger. James wanted to tell him to be quiet, to tell him that Pierce wasn’t just an everyday New York crazy person, he wanted to tell Steve to run. 

He still couldn’t speak. 

“Oh, and I finally get to make the acquaintance of your feisty little mate. Seems a shame for him to go to waste, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll add him to my menagerie when I’m done with you. Or maybe I’ll just have you tear him into little pieces.” Pierce shrugged easily, like either option was fine with him. 

James took a step forward, even as Steve held his shirt, trying to stop him. Pierce smiled, then jerked the leash in his hand. 

The source of the rotting smell came into light, and Steve let out a sharp gasp. James faltered. Crouched in front of him was a not a wolf. It was many wolves, a hulking monstrosity made from the components of long dead werewolves, presumably other test subjects of Pierce’s. 

That explained the lack of a heartbeat at least. 

One of the heads of the creature was familiar, and James realized with a moment of panic that it was the wolf he had killed for food back in the laboratory. 

“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” Pierce said, folding his hands easily and walking away. 

In a space of two breaths, the thing was lunging at them. James was ready, leaping and shifting in midair, landing on it's back in full wolf form. He dug his claws into its shoulders, jaws snapping at the back of its neck. 

It threw him off, and he flew across the sidewalk, hitting a brick wall with a sharp cry. The thing lurched toward Steve, and Bucky scrambled to his feet, running forward and burying his teeth in it's calf, trying to drag it backwards. It tried to shake him off, but this time, Bucky was prepared for its strength and held his ground. It pulled harder, and something snapped and Bucky skittered back, holding pieces of its achilles heel in his mouth. 

The thing didn’t even stop moving, didn’t even register the pain. Bucky spat out the tendon and howled, hoping that someone would be close enough to hear him. 

Steve was crouching behind a garbage can, pressing his phone to his ear. The creature once again took a step towards him, and Bucky growled, running between the creature’s legs until he was in front of Steve, stance guarded. 

“Bu-J-James.” Steve breathed, touching Bucky’s flank. “Don’t.”

Bucky glanced back at Steve, and gave a low woof, then backed up a few feet. 

He lunged at the creature, knocking it off balance as he collided with its chest. Both of them went sprawling and the thing dug its claws into Bucky’s sides. There was a deep, burning pain, and his skin sizzled. 

The claws were dipped in silver. 

He swallowed his scream and tried snap at its throat, but it shook it's claws, making Bucky yelp in pain. 

“Hey!” Steve yelled, and Bucky wanted to jump on him, to make him run or hide or at least not  _ actively  _ try to get the beast’s attention. The thing’s heads snapped to look at Steve, who had the lid of the trash can raised. “Leave my dog- my boyf- leave him alone!” 

Stupid self sacrificing idiot. 

The thing dragged its poison claws along Bucky’s ribs, then tossed him to the side in favor of advancing on Steve once again. Bucky gave a moment wondered why it was so fixated on him, but buried claws into the creature’s back, trying to hold it back. 

There was a hissing sound, and Bucky began sneezing and hacking as some terrible peppery smell and taste permeated the air. It took him a minute to realize that Steve had emptied an entire can of mace into the creature’s face. 

It stopped, not in pain, but certainly stunned, and Steve took the moment to slam the trash can lid over its heads. 

The clanging sound was loud and startling, but the thing’s furious shout was louder. Bucky tackled it, trying to keep it from hurting Steve. He heard another growl and a second wolf crashed into the creature, then a third. They helped Bucky take it to the ground, and the larger of the two wolves took off its heads in one easy swipe. 

She shifted back, helping James stand. “Where in th' hell did that feckin' thin' come frae?”

“Alpha Sinclair,” James breathed, ducking his head. She was starkly naked except for a crucifix around her neck. Her pack was small but powerful, and they held most for Brooklyn west of Bushwick.  “Forgive m-me for-”

“It's nae trouble. An' call me Rahne for heaven's sake.” She ran a hand through her short cropped red hair. The other wolf stayed at her feet, eying James warily. He was twisted up in his clothes from shifting suddenly, and he self consciously tried to get dressed. “You're Natasha's bairn, arenae ye?” 

“Y-yes.” James said. “I didn’t mean to bring that creature into your territory.”

"It's probably a good thin' ye did, or else ye an' yer mukker would hae been hamburger helper.” She told him, walking over and pulling Steve to his feet. “Are ye alrecht, wee a body?”

Steve, wide-eyed, looked away from her naked body over at James, then at the dead creature, then at the remaining wolf. “Okay. What. The holy fucking. Shit. Is happening.” He pointed at James accusingly. “You were my dog!” 

“Och, this seems personal.” Rahne said. “Jack, we should-”

All three of the wolves paused, all smelling a second predator. Rahne looked at James, fangs and claws dropping. “Get outta here, bairn. Tak' yer human wi' ye. We’ve got it covered.” She tilted her head up and howled for the rest of her pack, fur rippling across her body. 

James didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Steve’s hand. “Get on my back.”

“No fucking way.” Steve said, jerking his hand back. 

James made a frustrated sound. “We don’t have time for this!”

“He's right.” Rahne said gruffly. “It'll be faster if ye gang piggyback. Now quit greetin' an' get outta here afair we all get killed.”

James pulled Steve on his back and started running. Steve arms were looped over his neck tightly, and he had his legs wrapped around James’ waist. James ran as fast as he could, faster than would’ve been possible for any human. 

He wasn’t thinking, so he brought them back to the den, pounding on the door. He immediately had a moment of horror when Rebecca opened the door, realizing that if someone were to track them, he would have led them right to his family.    


“Holy shit,” Becca breathed as they rushed through the door. “Jamie, what the-”

Natasha and Clint burst through the door of the bedroom, nearly tackling James. “Why are you bleeding?” Natasha demanded, white-faced and panicked. 

“Natasha?” Steve asked, bewildered. 

He was still clinging to James’ back, but he climbed down on unsteady feet. He almost fell over, and James caught him, leading him over to the couch. “You need to sit.” 

“What happened?” Clint asked, fingers twitching nervously. 

“We were attacked on our way home. It was-” James let out a breathless wolf-whine, terror stuck in his throat. He leaned forward, crashing into his Alphas, letting them scent him. 

Rebecca held a glass of water and a paltry first aid kit. She passing Steve the glass. He took it with shaking hands. “Thank you. Are you also a werewolf?” The words came out biting, nearly angry. 

“No, I’m human.” She said easily. “Drink.” She walked to James’ side, pulling his out of Natasha and Clint’s embrace, pulling up what was left of his tattered shirt. 

He could hear a collective hiss, and Becca gently herded him into chair. She knelt next to him, gingerly cleaning the wound that he had almost forgotten about in his hurry. The rest of his bruises and scrapes had already healed, but the claw marks were still an angry red against his pale skin, bleeding sluggishly. “What did this?

“Franken-wolf.” James answered, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Now that all the adrenaline had left him, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. “Killed him twice now. Poor fucker.” It was the last thing he thought before slipping into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes an X-Men deep cut, Rahne Sinclair, an intensely Scottish mutant known as Wolfsbane. When I first started writing this fic, I knew I had to figure out a way to include her, because she's the best Marvel werewolf. The other wolf with her is Jack Russel, a real Marvel character who's superhero name is "Werewolf By Night". yeah. 
> 
> Anyway, if you have the time or inclination, you should totally read X-Factor Investigations. Both of them feature in the series, which actually has LGBT characters and one of my favorites, Multiple Man


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bloody. Just fyi

Natasha looked over at Steve. She sighed, smoothed a hand over James’ forehead, and stood, walking over to him. “So.”

“I have questions.” Steve said, pale and glancing nervously over at James. His head was still spinning. Nothing made any sense.

Natasha crouched in front of him, patting his knee. “I’m sure you do. I’ll give you a short summary. James is a werewolf and also your dog. He was being held captive by some bad people, and you found him shortly after he escaped.” Her lips twitched. “You and your mother saved his life. Thank you for that.”

“And you’re…” Steve trailed off.

She nodded. “I’m a werewolf. So is Clint.” She pointed at the sandy-haired man. “We’re an Alpha pair, which means we’re the leaders of this pack. We take care of James and Rebecca. We… we _try_ to protect them.” She looked away for a moment. “I know you still want answers, but I also have to ask you some things. What attacked you?”

“It was… I don’t know.” _A monster._ He wanted to say. “It was big. And… dead, I think. It smelled like death. It looked like it had been put together from pieces of other, um, other werewolves, I guess.” It had been horrifying. Steve took another sip of water.

Natasha pressed her lips together. “Can you tell me anything else?”

“Um, yeah. There was this-this guy, this creep that acted like he knew us.” Steve still felt sick.

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “What did he look like?”

“Um. Rich. White. He was wearing a suit and he talked like serial killer in a poorly written movie.” Steve glanced back over at James, at Bucky. “Listen, I'd love to talk, but I really think he needs medical attention.”

Rebecca looked grim, holding gauze to the wound. “We can’t take him to a hospital.”

“Isn’t there like, a-a witch doctor you can take him to?” Steve asked a little desperately. “He needs stitches.” He stood, walking over to them. “Sorry, may I-” Rebecca moved over, allowing Steve to look.

He frowned. “Do you have a light?”

“Yeah.” Rebecca shined her phone’s flashlight at it.

Steve pushed up his glasses, running a gentle finger along the skin next to the wound. It was a slightly blue tint. “What’s this discoloration around the wound?”

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked, leaning over. She let out a sharp hiss of breath. “Fuck.” She said, losing her calm for the first time. Her voice rose with panic. “Fuck, Clint, he’s got silver poisoning!”

The large, sandy-haired man slid to his knees in front of them, eyes wide. “Okay, okay. Um, Becks, that girl you’re seeing, she’s a druid, right?”

“Her moms are, but they’re in Abidjan, visiting family.” Rebecca replied.

Steve stood and got out his phone, dialing Sam. The phone rang three times before he answered, and Steve bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. “Sam!”

“Yeah, what?” Sam asked, sound confused and sleepy.

“Listen, it's an emergency. Like a code-red ass emergency. I need you to get your mom and mine, with both of their work stuff, and get to this address.” He handed the phone to Rebecca so she could give the address.

Sam was bewildered, but it sounded like he was moving. “Steve, my mom’s with Sal, moving into his new place.”

“Shit!” Steve said, rubbing a hand over his head. “Shit, fuck. Okay. Um, you said she was teaching you shit, right? Like how to be a witch and stuff?”

“Steve for the last time, it's not witchcraft,” Sam sighed, sounding annoyed.

Steve shut his eyes tightly. “What do you know about treating werewolves with silver poisoning?”

There were a few moments of silence, and then Sam said, “We’ll be right there.”

Luckily, Bucky’s-James’- apartment wasn’t far from theirs, and Sam quickly arrived with Sarah in tow, both of them holding work bags. Sarah looked confused, holding her massive medical bag to her chest. Natasha greeted both of them quickly, ushering them inside.

Sam looked at Steve, then at James, who was still asleep in the chair, pale and panting with a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Sam’s expression went through several quick changes, but settled on a mix of dawning horror and triumph. “I fuckin’ knew it! I knew there was something weird about him! What did I say!”

“Yeah, Sam, you really called it. My fucking boyfriend is a werewolf.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Sam skittered to a halt. “Hold up. Boyfriend?” He pointed between Steve and James. “When did that happen!”

“Oh my god!” Steve threw his hands in the air. “Fix him!”

“Good lord.” Sarah was already at James’ side, pulling on gloves with the ease of a well practiced professional. She began checking his pulse and going over his breathing rate. She peeled back the gauze that Rebecca had applied to the wound. “What happened to this poor boy?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a lot to explain, ma. We were attacked on our way home.”

“Are you alright?” Motherly concern overtook her professionalism and her gaze darted over to Steve.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve said. “He-he protected me. He kept me safe."

Sarah rested a hand against James’ cheek for a moment, like she was silently thanking him. Her brows creased. “He’s got a fever.”

“Are you sure? We-he runs a little hot.” Natasha interjected. James’ whole family or pack or... whatever was hovering nervously. “His base temperature is usually around 101 degrees.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, he’s burning up. His body is fighting off some sort of infection.”

“Silver poisoning.” Clint said impatiently. He looked at Sam. “Witch kid, do you have some sort of-“ He made a broad gesture. “Spell?”

“I…” Sam swallowed nervously. “Yes. I have a blood cleansing ritual that I can specify for a werewolf, but I’ve never… done this before. All of my work at this point has been small stuff. Crystal blessings, holy water, that sort of thing. My healing magic has been purely theoretical at this point.”

Sarah coughed politely. “This is all very interesting, but now is not the time for games, Samuel. This boy is badly hurt-"

Natasha sighed and suddenly in her place was a large red wolf. Sarah let out a small, shocked scream, putting her hand over her heart. _“Dia ár sábháil!”_

“Yeah. Werewolves.” Clint said, then raised his eyebrows at Sam. “What do you need?”

Sam has pulled out a small journal and was flipping through it with a deep frown. “Can you move him to the table? Lay him down on his back, and, uh, make sure his head is pointing East.”

Natasha shifted back to her human form, helping Clint carry Bucky to the table. His breaths were getting shallow, and that blue-gray color was growing on the skin of his torso. It looked almost like he was turning to stone.

Steve didn’t even realize he was gripping Becca’s hand until her nails dug into the soft skin of his palm. He looked at her, and saw the tears swimming in her eyes, saw her fingertips pressed tightly against her mouth as she harshly whispered, “Not again, don’t leave me again,”

Steve squeezed her hand gently, not sure of what else he could do to help as Sam directed the werewolves.

A moonstone was placed on James’ forehead, and different channeling crystals went on each of his chakras. Sam explained what he was doing in a shaking voice, perhaps worried about being gutted by an angry werewolf mom if he made a wrong move. “Ah, um, shit, what moon is it?”

“Waxing gibbous.” Rebecca answered quickly.

Sam nodded and lit some incense, and Steve covered his nose and mouth with his shirt. Sarah stood beside Steve and Rebecca, watching with the same sense of helplessness.

The windows were opened to let in the night air, and Sam had Clint light a candle as he got out a stone bowl. “Okay, um. I need blood from the one that turned him.”

“He’s a born wolf.” Natasha said tightly.

“Oh, um.” Sam flipped through several pages of his journal. “Okay, then a blood relative will work.”

Rebecca let out a soft breath and took a step forward, relief in the set of her shoulders with something to do. Steve’s fingers were numb when she let go of his hand. “How much?”

“Um, enough to coat the bottom of the bowl. It needs to be from your left arm.” Sam instructed. “And we need the cut to come from the claws of his right hand. Well. His only hand.”

Natasha nodded, pressing her thumb against the muscles of James’ wrist. His claws came out, and Rebecca easily picked up his hand, cutting the skin of her left forearm and letting blood drip into Sam’s bowl.

Sarah quickly stepped forward, disinfecting the cut and bandaging it. Sam set his jaw and dipped his fingers in the bowl, drawing strange symbols on James’ torso. “For lineage.”

“Okay, now from his Alphas.” Sam said, holding out the bowl. “From your right arm.”

“He's our beta. His claws can’t pierce our skin.” Natasha said.

Sam nodded. “I know. You have to draw the blood from one another in order to prove his worth to you."

Clint easily offered his arm to Natasha, who dragged a single claw below his elbow. They switched, and Sam held the bowl underneath them, collecting the blood. Sarah stepped forward again, forcing them to let her fuss over their wounds.

Sam drew different runes on James’ face, and murmured, “For power.”

“Alright and um.” Sam looked up. “It says his bondmate? Does he…”

Natasha, Clint, and Rebecca all looked at Steve. Steve pointed at himself in confusion. “I… me?”

“Yeah,” Natasha tiredly as Sarah bandaged her arm. “You. Since the first day he met you. It's hard to understand for non-wolves, but-"

“I’ll do it.” Steve said quickly, rolling up his sleeves. “What do you need?”

“Your right palm and his.” Sam said. He reached in his bag and pulled out a knife. “Um, clasp hands.”

Steve twined his fingers in Bucky’s, thinking about how just hours ago, he had been so nervous to hold James’ hand in the movie theater. Sam slid the knife carefully between their joined hands, then jerked it up, cutting their skin. Steve hissed in pain, but didn’t let go, watching as their combined blood dripped into Sam’s bowl.

“Okay, you need to stay there for the rest of the ritual.” Sam said. “Don’t let go.”

Steve nodded, licking his lips as Sam started drawing on James’ chest. “For heart.”

Sam looked at them all nervously. “Um. This part is going to hurt him. So. Please don’t… kill me or anything.”

He held the knife over the candle, letting the flame heat the metal. Sam winced a little, muttering a quick apology to James as he held the red-knife horizontally across the claw marks.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson!” Sarah gasped.

James’ back arched off the table, and a raw scream left his throat. The stones all fell off his body and he gripped Steve’s hand tightly.

Clint clapped a hand over James’ mouth to muffle the screams, but Sam shook his head. “No! He needs to let it out!”

Clint let go just as the scream turned into a deafening howl. Steve wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t let go. Black smoke left James’ mouth and the blue-gray color seeped out of his skin. The blood runes glowed gold, and Steve could feel the heat coming off of them.

It all stopped in a sudden instant. James stopped howling and slumped back onto the table. The runes has disappeared from his body, as had the blue infection around the wound. He already looked better, color returning to his cheeks.

As soon as Sam dropped the knife to the side, Sarah rushes forward to inspect the wound. “H-he’s not even burned!”

“Magic, baby.” Sam said, doing finger guns. Then, he immediately passed out.

Clint caught him easily and carried him to the couch. Sarah looked torn between checking on Sam, cleaning the cut on Steve’s hand, and looking at the jagged claw marks on James’ side. “Me and Sam are fine, Ma.” Steve said, voice a little hoarse. “Make sure that Buc- that James lives through the night.”

Sarah nodded, professionally turning to her task. Steve let go of his hand, the dried blood making it surprisingly difficult.

He walked to the kitchen sink, washing his hands thoroughly. Natasha and Clint still hovered near Bucky’s side, waiting as Sarah cleaned and stitched his injuries. Steve sprawled on the couch next to Sam, who was still out cold and snoring lightly. Rebecca sat perched on the arm on the couch. All of them were past exhausted. “Go team.” Steve said weakly, and Rebecca let out a small snort.

“I’ve never had human friends before.” She said quietly. “We should get t-shirts made.”

Steve looked over at her. “What’s it like? Living with…”

“Werewolves?” She asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. Steve felt stupid for not realizing earlier that she and Natasha were clearly related.

“No,” Steve shook his head, making an expansive gesture. “With-with the the knowledge that there’s this whole other world out there that only a few people know about?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I don't really know. I mean, it's like-” She sighed a little. “I was born into this life. Our mother was a werewolf. I grew up like a wolf. It's not like I woke up one day and suddenly realized that the supernatural existed. It was always a part of my life.” She tilted her head and looked over at Steve. “Are you ready for it to be a part of yours?”

James stirred, and Natasha had to coax him back into laying down as Sarah finished his stitches. “Where’s Steve?” He slurred, and Steve felt like a hot poker stabbed him in the gut. James had almost died, and he was still worried about him. Stupid, sweet, infuriating moron.

“I’m here.” Steve got up, walking to his side. He rested his hand on James’ naked shoulder as he tried to sit up. “Easy, now, Buck. Let ma finish her work.”

“You’re bleeding.” James pouted.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “So are you, dumbass.”

“Oh.” He knocked his head against the table, blinking at the ceiling. His eyes were still fuzzy with confusion and blood loss, and Steve sat next to him, holding his hand. Their matching cuts lined up, and it should have been gross, but it wasn’t. James smiled loopily. “I like it when you call me Buck.”

Sarah glanced up at the two of them. “Wait,”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “James has been moonlighting as our dog. I didn’t know until about an hour ago.”

A series of expressions flitted across her face, but it settled on understanding. “So that’s why he would never eat the dog food, even when we bought the fancy, organic stuff.”

“I actually did try that, because it smelled nice.” James confessed. “It tasted good, but it was just too embarrassing.”

Sarah’s smile was gentle and confused, and after a moment, she stroked a hand over James’ hair. He leaned into the touch, overly-reminiscent of his dog-shape, and Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Alright, my dear. You’re all fixed. Don’t do anything too strenuous, and I won’t have to jab you with any more needles.”

Natasha stepped forward and grasped Sarah’s forearm. “That’s twice now you’ve saved my beta. I won’t forget it.”

“I know what it's like to have a pup who won’t stay out of trouble.” Sarah said with a small smile. “You’re doing your best, Natasha.”

“My best isn’t good enough.” Natasha said grimly. She turned to Clint. “Call the Logan. Call Wanda. Call Strange. This has gone on long enough. We’re going to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not an approved treatment for argyria. If you have silver poisoning, please contact your physician. Don't do blood rituals.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two week absence, midterms have been kicking my ass. I should be back on the regular schedule from now on. Thanks to everyone for your understanding!

Sam, Steve, Rebecca, and James were all forced to hole up in the twin’s room while the adults talked. Rebecca was annoyed to be relegated to the kid’s table, so to speak, but James and Steve were just relieved to have a moment to breathe. Sam didn’t care either way, as had woken up, eaten nearly everything in the pantry, then promptly fallen back asleep. 

Becca sat on the edge of her bed, and James sat on the ground, leaning against her legs. He was still sluggish, still drunk on the blood loss and magic. 

Steve hovered awkwardly. “Uh, where should I-”

Too tired to ask for what he wanted, James wordlessly reached up and tugged on Steve’s hand. Steve understood, folding his legs underneath himself and sitting next to Bucky. He didn’t let go of his hand, instead idly playing with James’ fingers. 

“Jamie, can you hear what’s happening?” Becca asked anxiously. 

Bucky closed his eyes and cocked his head. “The Manhattan pack just showed up.” He mumbled.

“All of them?” Becca asked.

Bucky shook his head, then felt sharply dizzy. “No, just Logan and Laura. And Akihiro, I think.” 

“Okay.” Becca said, seeing that he wasn’t up for much more interrogation.

“What’re they, um.” Steve pressed his lips together. “What’s going on out there?”   


“Natasha called a Summit.” Becca answered gravely. She was staring at the door, like she could see through it if she tried hard enough. She was nervously braiding James’ hair.

Steve frowned. “You know I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means that the New York Alpha of Alphas, the head of the New York Coven Association, the Sorcerer Supreme, and the Brood-Leader are all about to be in our living room.” Becca said, hands stilling atop James’ head. 

“What’s a brood-leader?” Steve asked. 

James leaded back against Becca’s knees. She let out huff of breath, quickly ran her fingers through his hair to unbraid it, then started over with twitching fingers. “She speaks for all the vampires in the city. Sort of like a representative.” 

“There are vampires?” Steve squeaked, then shook his head. “You know what, that shouldn’t be what I’m hung up on. Please continue.” 

Becca let out a breath. “Summits are reserved for emergencies. Not all… magically inclined folk get along; the instincts and cultures are just too different. Getting all of these people in one room means that something-” She swallowed, glancing at James. “Something big is going down.” 

Sam, from where he was asleep up on James’ bunk, let out a loud snore. James curled further in on himself. 

More than anything, he wanted to shift into his wolf-shape. Of course, both Sarah and Natasha had told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t. It would tear his stitches. 

“Buck?” Steve asked softly. 

The scent of death, the face of the wolf he had killed, the way Alexander smiled at him before walking away; unbothered and sure that he would see James again. 

It was all too much. He let out a small wolf whine. He needed to get out of the city, needed to go somewhere vast and wild where he could run and hunt until his legs gave out. Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and shut his eyes. 

James was drowning. He remembered what it was like, the panic as the water rose above his head, knowing that he couldn’t inhale, knowing it was the last thing he should do, even though he wanted it more than anything else. 

He remembered the people watching him from behind the glass, unmoved as he thrashed around, muscles seizing, lips aching, heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest. They timed him; wrote down how long he was able to hold his breath, how long he was able to stay underwater before his heart stopped, how long it took for him to heal after. 

He remembered waking up, being unable to talk for days, feeling the abrasions on his lungs heal.  He remembered Alexander telling him his times, remembered the proud smile on his face as he told James how well he did after he had been able to hold his breath for eleven minutes.

“Hey,” A soft voice, hands on the side of his face, the scent of his mate prompted James to open his eyes, to let out the burning breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Without any thought, he wrapped his arm around Steve’s stomach, pulling him close. He buried his face in his neck, eyelashes brushing against the sensitive hollow of his throat. Steve squeaked, but gently settled a hand in James’ hair. “You’re alright, Bucky. I’ve got you. I’m here.” 

The hand on Bucky’s cheek was bandaged, and the rough fabric scraped against his skin. It was grounding, and Bucky turned into the touch. Steve’s thumb slowly dragged his cheekbone, and he sat in Bucky’s lap, petting him as if he were in dog-shape. 

“I should just go back.” Bucky whispered. 

Becca slipped off the couch and sat next to them, laying one hand on his shoulder. “Go back where, Jamie?”   


“I don’t want anybody else to get hurt because of me.” He said, voice muffled in Steve’s shirt. 

Steve paused in his ministrations for half a millisecond, his irregular and familiar heartbeat thumping against Bucky’s cheek. “What?”

“There talking about going up against HYDRA.” Bucky said, then squeezed his eyes shut, hand clenching. “If-if they do that, people are gonna get hurt. They’re gonna die.”

“Buck.” Steve whispered. “What are you saying?” 

Bucky tried to shake his head, but he just ended pulling Steve closer. “He just wants me.” He muttered. “Alexander will let everyone live if he just gets me.” 

Becca seemed stricken. “James.” She said sternly.

Steve gripped the back of his neck, like a mother wolf holding her pup. “Hey. None of that. Whoever… whatever that guy was, he’s not laying a fucking hand on you. You’re not going anywhere.”

“And I don’t give a single fuck about your self-sacrificial bullshit. If I have to single-handedly fight every hunter and supernatural in New York City, I will. You’re staying right here.” Becca said. She was baring her teeth, and for a moment, she looked like their mom. 

Bucky reached out and tugged a loose strand of her hair, half agreement and half surrender. She gripped his hand, squeezing it gently, then letting him go. 

“Okay.” Bucky said softly. He wiped at his face ineffectually, feeling younger than he has in years. “‘M sorry.” 

“It's okay, Buck.” Steve told him. “It's all gonna be okay.”

 

-

 

It was the most morose sleepover Steve had ever attended. Bucky drifted between lucid panicking and dazed weepiness until he finally exhausted himself into falling asleep. Sam continued to snooze peacefully on the top bunk, Rebecca tried to stay up, but eventually Natasha came in and forced her to go to sleep.

Steve spent the night curled up on a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor of the Barnes’ twins  room, unable to sleep. There was just so much new information for him to process. Every now and again he’d hake Bucky awake from a nightmare, pressing against his back and soothing him back to sleep. It was odd, how much sleeping beside him in human form was similar to when Steve still thought he was his dog. 

He still had so many questions. He wanted to wake up Bucky or Rebecca or Sam and pester them until he had all the answers he needed, but instead he just stared at the tensed muscles in Bucky’s back and frowned. His dig was his boyfriend. His boyfriend was a werewolf. His best friend was a witch. Vampires and other fairy tales existed. There was a creepy guy who wanted his boyfriend was willing to kill people to get him. 

“Shh…” Bucky rolled over, resting his cheek against Steve’s shoulder. He laid a hand over the soft cotton fabric of Steve’s shirt, fingers resting lightly over his heart.

Steve turned to press his lips against the crown of Bucky’s head. “Sorry.” 

“You okay?” Bucky hummed and his fingers spread warmly over Steve’s chest. For a moment that contact was all Steve could think about. 

“Yeah, I, uh… yeah. I was just thinking. Are, are _you_ okay, Buck?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky let out a breath. "I think so. I-I'm sorry, about everything."

"Don't be." Steve told him. "I'm glad, I think. Not-not about you being, y'know a victim of supernatural-based kidnapping and torture, but that I know this side of you."

Bucky chuckled, eyes closing. "I know that it's a lot. I know you probably have a shitton of questions. I'll answer as many as I can."

Steve just had one. "What’s a bondmate?”

Bucky seemed to grow more lucid at that, jumping a little. It was hard to see in the darkness, but his skin seemed to heat at the words. He turned to face Steve. “Where, uh, where did you hear that word?”

“In the spell. Sam said he needed your bondmate’s blood.” Steve held up his injured hand. “And mine seemed to work.” 

Bucky swallowed convulsively. “Um, it's a werewolf thing. I’m not really sure of the science or magic behind it. But it's like… every ‘wolf has a perfect mate. It someone we’re drawn to, someone we would do anything for. It doesn’t always have to be a romantic thing, although it usually is.”

“There’s usually a whole ritual involves, where the ‘wolf and the mate prove that they can provide for each other, protect each other, but we sort of did that, just by being… with each other. You saved my life after I escaped from the hunters, and I beat the shit out of Rumlow and Rollins.”

Steve smiled a little. He knows he should be weirded out, but he’s oddly endured. “How did you know?” 

“How did I know you were my mate?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. Bucky let out a huff of breath, and Steve smiled at how dog-like it was. “This is gonna sound… it was your scent.”

“My scent?” Steve asked. “What do I smell like?”

Bucky turned his face into the pile-bed. His voice was muffled. “Onn’t ak ee ay t.” 

“What?” Steve chuckled. He poked Bucky in the rib-cage. “What was that, Lassie?” 

Bucky waved him away. “Fuck off.” He sighed, draping his arm over his face. “Don’t make me say it.”

Steve continued poking him in the side, right where he knew him to be ticklish from several petting mishaps. Bucky squirmed away, giggling softly. “Fine. Stop it, stop it! I’ll bite you, I swear to god. Do you want me to bite you, because I’ll bite you with my teeth.”

“Would it make me turn into a werewolf?” Steve asked curiously

“No, but it would hurt. A lot.” Bucky said. “I have very sharp teeth.” 

Steve frowned. “Wait, so what  _ would  _ turn a person into a werewo… wait, you’re distracting me. Tell me what I smell like. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell-”

“Oh my god, both of you, shut the fuck up.” Rebecca threw a pillow at them. Bucky caught it out of the air and tossed it back to her.    
“Sorry.” Steve said, properly embarrassed. “I was just…”

“Pestering him about your scent, I heard.” She whispered harshly. She put on a dreamy voice. “‘He smells so kind, like warm laundry and bar soap and golden apples.’” She threw the pillow back at her brother, and it hit him square in the face. “That’s you. That’s what you sound like, James. Now let me sleep.”

He emphatically flipped her off, face bright red, then flopped back down onto the bed of blankets. He looked at Steve, then quickly looked away. “Pretend you didn’t hear that. Pretend that I don’t exist. Pretend I died.” 

Steve bit back a smile, laying down next to him. “I think you smell good too. I know that everything that’s happening right now is overwhelming and I don’t get the whole… mate thing, but I know that I like you a lot, and that’s enough for me.” 

Steve tentatively raised his hand, fingertips touching Bucky’s lips. He felt them turn upwards into a smile and he leaned in, kissing the side of Bucky’s mouth. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Night, Steve.” 

Another pillow hit them both. “Oh my god, go the fuck to sleep!” 


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky’s knee bounced anxiously as he sat on the edge of Rebecca’s bunk. They had sent Sam and Steve and Mrs. Rogers home late the next morning, and almost all of the dignitaries had gone home.

“James? Could you come here for a second?” Natasha’s voice called, and Becca glanced over at him, squeezing his arm once. He attempted to smile at her, then stood, walking to the living room. The Alpha of Alphas was sitting on their couch, sipping a mug of herbal tea.

The nice thing about this crisis was that the apartment was cleaner than it has ever been, Clint and Natasha trying their best to present a responsible front for the Supernatural Leadership. Logan gestured for Bucky to sit. Bucky kept his eyes low, but sat, head bowed.

“You know why I’m here, don’tcha?” Logan asked.

Bucky glanced up at him, trying to gauge his expression, then nodded. “You need information about… about HYDRA.”

“Mmhm.” He set aside his mug, smiling with far too many teeth. “Anything you know about the layout of the base, their personnel, what sort of magical or technical defenses they might have, y’know the jist.”

Bucky didn’t really know the jist. He had never waged a preemptive assault on anybody before. “Um. Well, Alexander Pierce is in charge. He… I think he’s human? He doesn’t do magic, but I know he has a has a few magic users under his thumb. Zola is the main one you have to look out for.” Bucky was scratching at his side anxiously. “I can guarantee he’s the one responsible for the… monstrosities.”

“Yeah, Rahne told me about those big fuckers, and my lieutenants encountered two more out in Staten Island and The Bronx. Looks like they’re made of a bunch of dead werewolves and some other ‘supes. Heard you got the business end of some pretty nasty silver claws.”

Bucky nodded, continuing to scratch his stitches. Clint, who was in the kitchen and had some sort of sixth sense for this sort of thing, pelted a pen cap at his hand. “Stop that. They’ll tear.”

“Sorry.” Bucky tucked his fingers into his palms. He swallowed and looked at Logan. “I… I know you’re looking for some good tactical advice in this fight against Pierce, but…”He shook his head. “Basically all I can tell you is how much he scares me. He knows everything about what it takes to kill us; he knows how long it takes for us to drown, how quickly we heal after being burned, the exact amount of silver nitrate he needs to take us down, what scents and pitches overwhelm us.”

His breathing was coming too quick, and he pulled his knees to his chest. All he could think of was the experiments, the torture. “I-I know you can probably fight him and win, but n-not without losing someone. I don’t want anybody t-to get hurt because of-.” He covered his face. “Fuck, this is all my fault.”

“Hey,” Logan wrapped one of his huge hands around the back of Bucky’s neck. It was impossible not to feel his enormous power. Bucky’s shaking stopped, and he looked at the Alpha’s face. He smiled gently, letting go of Bucky. “I know you’re scared.” He lowered his voice. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret.”

Logan glanced up at Natasha, nodding at her awkwardly. She stood and grabbed Clint’s hand, the two of them leaving the apartment. Logan cocked his head, listening until they were out of range. Then, he held out one of his hands, and metal coated claws appeared from his fingertips. “Your alpha told me a little bit about what you went through. Let’s just say that I can relate being the experiment of some sick sadist.”

Bucky stared at the claws, stomach churning. “It's okay.” Logan said. “You can touch ‘em.”

“Um…” He touched one with the tip of his finger, then hissed in pain, quickly pulling back his hand. “Fuck, is that silver?”

“It's just the coating, but yes.” Logan retracted his claws.

Bucky sucked on the tip of his finger where he had touched the claws. It burned, a little like touching a hot dish. “How are you still standing?”

“I’ve undergone enough body modifications that I can’t get silver poisoning, and you get used to the agony after a while.” He wiggled his fingers at Bucky. “I was tortured. I was experimented on. I was used to kill people. Was that my fault?”

Bucky looked down at his own hand, swallowing convulsively. “No.” He whispered.

Logan clapped his shoulder. “Then it sure as shit ain’t yours, kid. Now. Let’s talk layout.” He grabbed a pen and a pad of paper. “How many exits and entrances does their base have?”

The rest of the weekend had been spent with various supernatural dignitaries visiting their apartment, preparing to face HYDRA. Bucky had helped as much as he could, but it was hard, his memories clouded by trauma. Whenever he could get away, he would slink off to the Rogers’ apartment, walking the familiar route on two legs rather than three.

Steve was laying down, reading The Crucible for their English class. Bucky laying down with his head on Steve’s stomach, listening as he read to himself under his breath. He was closing his eyes and tracing patterns on Steve’s hipbone when  Steve sat up and threw his hands in the air.

“Oh my god! You have to stop!”

Bucky frowned and immediately sat up. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“The touching! I’m going to explode!” Steve buried his face in a pillow and let out a short yell. “Bucky. You’re great, and I lo- and you’re great, but if you keep touching me all the time, I’m gonna die or-or jump your bones or something else drastic.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “I was just… you don’t normally care.” He remembered the first time he came over, when he instinctively laid on the couch with his head in Steve’s lap, and Steve jumped, talking quickly and embarrassedly, flustered and pink. It was cute, but it was confusing that Bucky’s normal actions would suddenly cause Steve to flail around. He didn’t understand it.

“Normally?” Steve squeaked. “You mean when you’re my dog?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. You didn’t have any problems then.”

“Because you were a dog!” Steve threw himself back onto the bed. “It's… different!”

Bucky shrugged. “Not really.”

“This-” Steve gestured between the two of them sitting on the bed. “This isn’t weird to you? Like… you acting the same as you do when you’re-” He made fake ears.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m always me, no matter the shape.” Unless he was under the control of HYDRA, but he wasn’t about to tell Steve about that. “I mean, the instincts are basically the same. When I was a wolf and I was hurt, I clung to you, because you were my mate and it brought me comfort. It wasn’t inherently sexual, because… that’s not what mates always are. When I was your dog, I was happy just to be close to you. It’s the same when I’ve just got the two legs, but I also find you ridiculously attractive and I like going on dates with you.” He shrugged. “I think it's pretty straight-forward."

Steve sat up. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he shook his head, laughing a little. He grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him into kiss.   


-  


“So what’s the plan?” Becca slid across the cafeteria table, peering at them from under her huge sunglasses.

Bucky dipped his fork into his salad, not even glancing up from his lunch tray. “You look ridiculous.”

“Wait, since when do you go to school here?” Sam asked. Bucky scoffed, and Steve shushed him. He was pressed against Bucky’s side, and underneath the table, their ankles were intertwined.

“She doesn’t.” Bucky said, ignoring his sister as she plucked a french fry from his plate. “She’s supposed to be at work right now.”

“I took the day off.” Becca said, waving her hand dismissively. She reached, out rubbing her hand over Bucky’s head first, then Steve’s. He blushed a little. Now that he had been clued-in to the supernatural, it was easier to recognize the little quirks that Bucky and his family had. It was a little funny, how wolf-like Becca really was, despite her apparent humanity. After she scent-marked him, Bucky made a low, unhappy sound and rubbed his cheek atop Steve’s head.

“There’s no plan.” Bucky told her.

“There’s totally a plan. I saw Logan and Natasha pull you aside.” She jabbed at him with a cold french fry. “What’s the plan?”

Bucky sighed. He drew a little closer to Steve. Sam glanced between the Barnes twins uncomfortably. “There’s no plan.” He said, a little sterner. “Not as far as we’re concerned.”

“You can’t be serious.” Becca said.

“As a heart attack.” Bucky replied. “We’re part of ‘Operation: Sit Back And Let The Adults Handle It.’”

“James!” Becca whined. “You love getting into mischief. We used to sneak out on Clint and Nat’s missions all the time.”

“Yeah, until the one time it got me chained up in a hunter’s laboratory for three months.” Bucky replied dryly. “Although, it's probably safer for the four of us to stay together. Sam, your place is warded, right? I couldn’t get in last time."

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s what that was! When you wouldn’t come inside and Sam nearly fainted!”

“I did wonder why the wards were keeping out an admittedly large but overall friendly dog out. I figured it just kept out most predators.” Sam shrugged, then turned to Becca. “Hey, you gonna eat that?” She shook her head, and he grabbed a carrot off of Bucky’s lunch tray.

“So, kinda like a party?” Steve said, sensing how tense Bucky was. He rubbed a hand down his back, watching the tension fall out of his shoulders. “We could watch movies? Pop some corn?”

“We’d have to look after the twins.” Sam said. “We’ll for sure be drafted to babysit.”

Becca looked offended for half a second before Bucky explained that Sam was talking about his little sisters. “So,” Becca drummed her fingers against the table. “When is it all going down?

Bucky sighed. “Listen, they’re doing some scouting and taking out some more Fraken-wolves, but the main ‘seige’ or whatever is going down on Thursday night.”

“Thank you!” Becca exclaimed. “Finally, _something._ ”

-

On Thursday, Sarah, Steve, Becca, Celeste, and Bucky were crowded into the Wilson’s living room with strict instructions to stay put until told otherwise.

Sam made some popcorn with his sisters while Sarah removed Bucky’s stitches while Becca helped. Steve was charmed when Bucky ran into the bathroom and came out in a dog-shape, holding his clothes in his mouth.

“Here, hold this. I need to reinforce the runes before I forget.” Sam said, passing Sasha to Celeste. She seemed to panic for a moment before holding the toddler up to the microwave so that she could watch the popcorn. Shea held her hands up, trying to be held too. Becca swept in and picked her up, spinning around and prompting laughter from both little girls.

Sam let the girls have some popcorn then ushered them off to bed. Steve sat on the couch, and Bucky walked over to where Steve was sitting and placed a polite paw on his lap.

Steve huffed a laugh. “Yeah, come on up, Buck.”

Bucky curled up on top of Steve, then gave him a knowing look. Steve rolled his eyes and scratched one of his ears. “Fine. It's the same.” Bucky’s tail wagged, and he leaned forward, licking Steve’s chin. “Ew!” Steve giggled, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Don’t _do_ that!”

Sarah sat on the lone armchair, and Sam politely sat on the floor, offering the couch space to Becca and Celeste. Celeste smiled, then stripped out of her shirt.

“Woah!” Sam covered his eyes and Steve quickly looked at the ceiling.

“Uhh,” Steve could feel himself blushing. Even Bucky had closed his eyes. “What, um, what’re you…”

Becca laughed. “It's fine, boys. You can stop fanning yourself.”

Curled up in Becca’s lap was a small black cat.

“Holy fucking shit.” Steve stated, and Sarah reached over, slapping him upside the head.

“Be polite.” She scolded, then looked over at Celeste. “You look lovely, Celeste. I’ve never met a cat-person before.”

“So,” Steve was still a little shocked. “You’re a… were-cat?”

Bucky wagged his tail, woofing lowly. Becca sighed a little, petting Celeste. “There’s no such thing as a werecat. She’s a matagot.”

Once everyone was settled, Steve turned on the 1941 version of The Wolf Man, unsurprised when Becca and Bucky gave him matching exasperated looks. Steve just gave them a shit-eating grin, patting Bucky on the head. Sarah just let a tired chuckle.

After the first movie had ended, Sarah had already fallen asleep in the big chair. Steve put in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, which Becca groaned was even _more_ inappropriate.

The Barnes twins were extremely tense. Becca was constantly checking her phone, glancing over at Bucky and shaking her head. Bucky’s ears were constantly twitching, and he would look towards the windows often. Steve was trying his best to soothe him, but it seemed a futile effort.

By the time they were on Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, Becca let out a deep sigh of relief. Bucky immediately lifted his head and looked at her. She nodded. “Clint just texted. They’re on their way back.” Becca smiled and reached out, resting her hand against Bucky’s head. “It’s over, James.” Bucky made a small whining sound, nosing her wrist.

“This is cause for celebration!” Sam announced, running to the kitchen. “Let’s eat some cake!”

“Cake?” Becca asked, raising her eyebrows.

Sam chuckled a little, nodding. “My mom’s been stress baking. We’ve got all sorts of shit. What do you want? We’ve got red velvet, caramel apple, carrot cake, and flourless chocolate.” Bucky woofed, tail wagging.

“I’ll take the caramel.” Steve said.

Becca hummed. “What do you think babe? Red velvet?” Celeste’s tail swished. “Carrot?” She mewed. “Okay. Carrot cake for the two of us.”

“Got it.” Sam said, juggling several plates. “Carrot cake for the ladies, carmel apple for my brother, and…” Sam held the cake just out of Bucky’s reach. “Can you even eat this? I heard that chocolate makes dogs sick.”

Bucky gave the biggest canine eye roll possible, unimpressed. Sam laughed and set it down.

The movie ended, and both Becca and Celeste had fallen asleep, and Bucky was nodding off. They were all in a malaise of cake and relief. Steve was lazily dragging his fingers through Bucky’s fur when suddenly, Sam lurched up, stumbling to his feet. Steve jumped a little, which made Bucky blink his eyes open. “What’s wrong, man? Legs fall asleep?” Steve asked, but received no response.

Bucky quickly woke up, jumping off the couch and turning back into his human shape, grabbing a blanket to hide his nudity. He was nearly shaking with terror.

Steve realized what was happening just as Sam pressed his hands against the door, and glowing runes appeared around it. Steve stood, shaking his mother awake. “Mom, you need to go to Sasha and Shea’s room and lock the door. If you hear fighting, you all need to climb down the fire escape and get to Mrs. Wilson’s shop, okay? Tell her and the other… magic people that we’re being attacked.”

Sarah looked for a moment like she wanted to protest, but pushed the medical bag into his arms. Bucky shook Becca awake. She startled, grabbing his arm. “Becks, wake up. Plan B. Please tell me you have Clint’s stuff.” He was pale as a sheet, voice trembling as he woke his sister.

Becca touched his face, then nodded seriously  and reached under the couch, pulling out a fucking bow and slinging a quiver of arrows over her shoulder. “Holy shit! Where did that come from?” Steve yelped.

“If my Alpha’s taught me anything, it's not to go out unarmed when there’s trouble.” Becca said with a nervous smirk.

Steve laughed a little hysterically, looking around at all of them. Five teenagers, one a cat, one barely a witch, one with a bag of bandages, one holding a giant bow, and one bordering on a panic attack.  “We make quite a team.”

“Hell yeah. Party composition.” Becca said.

Sam snorted, though he was obviously straining. “Fuckin’ nerd.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked nervously.

She pointed at herself. “Ranger.” Nodded at Celeste, who was pacing in front of her, watching the door with her fur standing on end. “Rogue.” She looked at Steve and quirked a smile. “Healer.” She pulled an arrow from her quiver and slotted it against the bowstring, drawing it back. She aimed it at the door, to the side of which Sam was channeling the runes. “Magic users.”

“And Bucky?” Steve asked warily, taking a few step back. Bucky sent him a terrified smile, then dropped blanket, walking past Steve and Rebecca. Steve wanted to be distracted my his nakedness, his expanse of skin, but all he could see were the ragged scars on his shoulder and the still-healing wound on his side, the way he seemed to be trembling.

“He’s our tank.” Becca said proudly.

Bucky shifted, fur rippling over his back as a low growl ripped from his throat. He stood in front of all them, ready for whatever was coming through the door.


	18. Chapter 18

“James, call for the Alphas.” Becca prompted, and Bucky tilted his head back, letting out a deafening howl. Steve fought the urge to cover his ears. 

Sam was clearly struggling to hold back whatever was on the other side of the door. 

“Don’t exhaust yourself.” Becca warned. 

“You want me to just let it through?” Sam asked incredulously, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Becca nodded. “You can’t keep this up for much longer. Maybe we can hold it off long enough for the adults to get here. But we can’t do that if not all of us are in this fight. You’re no good to us passed out on the floor.” 

“Fuck,” Sam grunted. The door was buckling with the strain. Bucky was growling anxiously and Celeste was pacing across the floor. Steve had no idea how he was supposed to help. He had an empty can of pepper spray and a bag full of band-aids and suture kits. “Okay,” Sam said. “Hold on to your asses. Three, two-”

He let go of the wall and stumbled back a few feet, bumping into Steve, who helped right him. The door crashed open with a shower of splinters. 

One of those hulking monstrosities stood in the doorway, then staggered backwards as an arrow lodged in it's chest. “Nice shot,” Steve breathed, unable to do anything but stand frozen in fear. 

The thing was only stalled for a moment, lurching forward menacingly. Sam tore away from Steve, running to the kitchen and throwing open cabinets. He began grabbing random spices, grinding them together in a mortar. Becca nocked another arrow. 

Bucky let out a low growl, and he and Celeste both lunged forward. Celeste jumped on Bucky’s back, then leaped up to claw at the thing’s throat. Bucky went for the legs, teeth tearing into the thing’s calves. Becca unloaded three more arrows into its center mass.

Once the thing was away from the door, Steve tossed the medical bag in the chair and ran for the hallway, skidding out of the apartment. First, he grabbed the fire alarm, hoping against hope that their shitty landlord kept the building up to code.

Thankfully, the blaring alarms came on, as well as the ancient sprinkler system. The water was gritty with build-up, but it was enough for people to shout with annoyance and begin to clear out of their apartments. 

Next, Steve ran for 814, flinging the door open and running for his room, grabbing the metal baseball bat he kept under his bed. 

He took two preemptive puffs from his inhaler, then ran back to the Wilson apartment, now armed and wet. 

The fight was still raging in the living room, and the creature’s back was to the door, which gave Steve a great chance to hit the thing in the back of the neck, then run in the opposite direction, ducking behind the couch. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted from the kitchen. “The girls’ toy box! Grab the super-soakers!”   


Steve threw up his hands. “What?” 

“Water guns in the toy box! Grab them!” Sam yelled.

“Guys! Draw him away from Steve!” 

“Aight!” Becca yelled, running towards the dining room. There wasn’t much room for terrain based tactics in a New York apartment, but the three of them made it work. 

Once Celeste, Bucky, and Rebecca had moved the fight away from the living room,  ran to the to the pink toy box in the living room corner, decorated with stickers of princesses and dinosaurs. He threw it open, rummaging through stuffed animals and toy cars until he found two large plastic guns.

There was a yowling sound as Celeste was thrown across the room. She landed lightly on her feet, hissing and running up the couch and leapt onto the creature’s back. Steve ran to the kitchen, trying his best to ignore the animalistic sounds of the fight, praying that everyone was okay. “Here,” He said, passing the guns to Sam. 

Sam nodded, mixing ingredients into a bowl. He spoke quickly and urgently. “In the windowsill of mom’s room there’s a planter. I need you to get three, no, four of the purple flowers.” 

“Got it.” Steve left the bat in the kitchen. He had never been to Mrs. Wilson’s room, but he knew which one it was by process of elimination. There were several plants growing in her room, but only one that was growing purple flowers. He picked a handful of them in case Sam needed more, then ran back into the kitchen. His fingers tingled uncomfortably as he set the flowers down, and he rubbed them with a frown. 

“Wash your hands.” Sam demanded. “Those are poisonous.” 

Steve raised his eyebrows. “What?” 

Sam just pointed to the sink without comment. Steve grumbled under his breath and scrubbed his hands as Sam continued his work. 

“C’mon.” Sam said, handing him one of the super-soakers. “Okay, aim for its eyes. Be careful not to hit any of our people, especially not your boy. Aconite is poisonous to humans, but it's fatal to wolves.”

Steve took the water gun carefully, handling it like a bomb. “No pressure.” He chuckled anxiously. “Just might accidentally kill my only boyfriend.” He let out a breath and nodded at Sam.

“Hey ugly!” Sam yelled, successfully drawing the creature’s attention. 

Steve gestured with his water gun at Celeste and Bucky. “Get clear!” 

Both of them jumped out of the way, and Sam and Steve both levelled their weapons at the thing. “Let’s kick some ass.” Sam said, and they both pulled the trigger, spraying the creature with the mixture. 

It clutched at its face, screaming inhumanly. It lashed out blindly, claws raking through the fabric of the couch. Rebecca shot another arrow through its knee, and it crashed to the ground. Bucky jumped on its back, jaws wrapping around it neck. There was a sickening crunch, and the creature stopped moving. 

The silence that followed was anything but. Everyone was panting, exhausted and full of terrified energy. Sam knocked his water gun against Steve’s, then slid to the ground, putting up a fist. “Go team.” 

Becca was bleeding from a cut in her arm, clutching an injured Celeste to her chest. Bucky jumped off of the creature, slowly walking over to Steve, knocking his head against Steve’s leg. Steve laughed breathlessly and patted Bucky’s head. “Good boy.”

Bucky gave a playful growl, gently nosing Steve’s hand, then shifted back into his human shape. One side of his face was bruised, and he was limping a little, but he was smiling. “I hate those things.” He knocked his knuckles against Sam’s head. “Quick thinking, Harry Potter,”

“Put some clothes on.” Sam said, staring at the floor. 

“Steve! Need your help.” Becca was helping a human shaped Celeste sit, covering her with a blanket. She was holding her arm at an awkward angle and her face was ashen.

“That looks dislocated.” Steve said, walking over to them. 

Becca bared her teeth. “You think?” 

Steve inspected Celeste’s shoulder, trying to be gentle. 

“Wait,” Celeste panted, putting a hand on Becca’s “That thing, it had no heartbeat.”

“I know.” Bucky said, standing up. He was still unashamedly naked. “It was already dead.”

Celeste shook her head. “It was made of death. But it was - ah, fuck! Holy motherfucking cuntballs!” Celeste hissed with pain as Becca whirled on Steve with a furious look. For a moment, he was afraid she was gonna punch him in the face. 

Steve raised his hand quickly. “Someone had to set her shoulder!”

“Stand down, babe, I’m okay.” Celeste sighed, gingerly testing her shoulder, then gave Steve a small smile. “He just surprised me. What was I was saying? Oh, yes. That thing. It was undead.” 

“Oh, shit.” Sam lifted his head. “You’re right.” 

Becca looked between them. “Anybody want to clue us in?”

“The undead can’t operate without someone nearby controlling them.” Sam said grimly, getting to his feet. 

Bucky shot Steve a panicked look, hand curling into a fist. “How nearby?” 

“Very.” An accented voice said. Bucky let out a sharp breath of air, quickly pushing Steve behind him. “I’m impressed, Soldat.” 

“Zola.” Bucky said, though his voice was shaking. 

That man did not strike an imposing figure. He was small and mousy, with round glasses and a round face. He was holding something that was connected to a string around his neck, seeming unbothered. 

Becca stood, drawing her bow. “You need to leave right now, unless you want to meet the same fate as your undead pet.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that will happen, Miss Barnes.” The man said genially. 

She nocked an arrow and pulled back the bowstring, calmly levelling it at Zola’s head. “Oh? Why not?”

“You wouldn’t want to hurt your brother.” Zola said, then pulled the string off his neck, smashing a small vial against the ground. The air was filled an astringent smell that made Steve wrinkle his nose. 

In front of him, Bucky went rigid, then completely slack. Steve reached out, tentatively touching the bare skin of his back. “Buck?"

“Here, boy.” Zola called, like he was speaking to a particularly disobedient dog. Bucky walked to his side, as if in a trance. 

“Let. Him. Go.” Becca said through gritted teeth. 

Zola hummed. “I don’t think I will. I put so much work into him, you see.” He turned to Bucky, placing his hand on the back of his neck. “ _ Beschütze. _ ” 

Becca let the arrow fly, but it stopped inches from Zola’s face. Bucky had caught it out of the air. He turned the arrow over in his hands, then looked at Zola. Zola smiled. “ _ Attacke _ .” 

With that, Bucky threw the arrow back at Rebecca with alarming speed. Celeste tackled her out of the way, and the arrow lodged into the wall behind them, right where Becca’s throat would have been. 

_ “Veränderung.”  _ Zola said, and Bucky shifted into his wolf form. But instead of the natural, almost graceful change between shapes, it looked twisted and painful. 

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. He didn’t know what to do. He looked at Sam, then Celeste, then Becca. They all looked as lost and panicked as him as Bucky sat patiently at Zola’s feet. 

“Now. You tell the Alphas this:” Zola said, placing his hand on Bucky’s head. “I am the only one with the counter spell to free this boy. If I die, he’ll be trapped in a feral state. If I am harmed, he will defend me with his life. I am leaving and I am taking him with me. Once I am outside of New York City limits with a guarantee that no harm will come to me, I will release him. Do you understand?”

Rebecca was stone-faced, though tears were falling silently down her face, almost as if she didn’t know. “I understand.” She whispered. 

“Good.” 

With that, chaos erupted. 

Two large wolves crashed through where the door used to be, one red and one sandy. The back window exploded and a massive black wolf with razor metal claws leapt clear over them, coming to stand in front of Zola and Bucky. Steve wasn’t even sure how the wolf managed to reach the 11th floor, unless flying werewolves were a thing.

Without hesitation, Bucky ran at the black wolf, snarling. The wolf roared in his face, and it was the loudest and most powerful sound Steve had ever heard in his life. It made everyone in the room skid to a halt for just a moment, made Steve want to bare his neck, to submit to this creature. 

Bucky made an angry sound, then lunged at the wolf. It stepped aside, avoiding the attack, but growled at him in warning. Bucky ignored him, clawing at his haunches. The wolf made an annoyed sound and swiped at him, though he was careful not to catch Bucky with his claws.

Bucky viciously bit into the wolf’s front right leg, and the growl the wolf made shifted into something different as he grew into a large, naked, side-burned man. He was holding his right arm out with Bucky dangling from it; teeth still buried inside. “Goddammit kid, get offa me.” He shook his arm firmly, and Bucky fell back to the ground. 

“ _ Soldat, ast!”  _ Zola shouted. 

“Wait, don’t!” Becca shrieked, and then there was a terrible gurgling sound as wolf teeth ripped out Zola’s throat. 

Bucky was changing. 

It wasn’t the usual shift. His build was no longer a wolf, but it wasn’t quite human, either. He was bipedal, but he was larger, more muscle-bound than usual. Fur covered parts of his body and his hand was tipped in claws and fang-like teeth dropped from his mouth. It would have been comical, like a monster from a bad eighties b-movie, if it didn’t look so painful. 

A horrible scream, half human and half wolf ripped from his throat. He slashed at the side-burn man, wicked claws catching him across the chest. The man shoved him away and he hit a wall, the impact creating a dent. 

The red wolf, who Steve thought was Natasha, jumped on Bucky, wrestling him to the ground. Bucky slashed her across the belly, and she let out a pained whining sound. He pushed her to the side, getting to his feet. She tackled him from behind, taking the back of his neck in her mouth. He made a frustrated sound, flipping around and punching her in the face. She stayed of him, trying to make him bare his throat, until he brought up leg, kneeing her in her already injured stomach. 

He stood, picking her up by the scruff and throwing her against the wall. 

“James!” Rebecca yelled, and the wolf Steve assumed to be Clint ran at Bucky. He took one of Bucky’s legs in his mouth, but he didn’t use teeth. Bucky kicked him in the side, and Steve could hear ribs breaking. 

The problem was clear. No one wanted to hurt Bucky. Bucky wanted to kill all of them. “Sam,” Steve hissed. “Can you fix this?” 

“No, I-I’m barely a witch, dude. I can’t undo a personalized control spell.” Sam was panicking. Everyone was panicking. Celeste was holding Becca back, keeping her from running at Bucky. The sideburn man was back to fighting Bucky, but he was holding back. The only way to end this was either bringing Bucky back or… 

No. The only way to end this was to bring Bucky back. 

“Hey!” Steve stood. Sam grabbed his arm, trying to pull him down. Steve shook him off. “Snap out of it Barnes.”

Bucky looked at him, strange blue eyes reflecting in the light. 

Steve took a breath, taking a step forward. The sideburns man shot him a warning look. “Kid…”

“James… what’s your middle name?” 

“Buchanan.” Rebecca said quietly. 

Steve wrinkled his nose, looking at Bucky. “Really? James Buchanan? Like that one really gay president? Okay. James Buchanan Barnes. That’s your name, even if it is ridiculous. I call you Bucky. You’re my friend. You’re my mate.” He took another step forward. 

Bucky let out a low growl. Steve smiled. “That’s the sound you made when Rumlow was kicking my ass, remember? I thought my mind was playing tricks. What one-armed kid can beat up two jocks?” He took another step. 

“C’mon, handsome. I know you’re in there.” Steve murmured. “We’ve got a magic bond. How about you put away those claws. You and me can watch old movies and I can throw food at you and you can take me on a second date. Hey, maybe we’ll live to see prom.” 

He was standing face to face with Bucky now, close enough to touch. Slowly, so slowly that it was almost painful, Steve reached out, laying his hand on Bucky’s rough cheek. “Come back, Buck.” 

Celeste let out a sharp gasp, and Sam cursed under his breath, though Steve wasn’t sure why. 

There was a warm feeling in his stomach, and he smiled as the animalistic features dropped out of Bucky’s face. He was smooth and human under Steve hand and he looked absolutely horrified. “Oh-oh my g-god Steve. Steve, no, I’m so sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve frowned. Bucky was crying and pale. He must be traumatised. Steve thumbbed at his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Steve,” Natasha was back in her human form. “You need to stay very still.”

Bucky was trembling, glancing at Steve’s. “God, fuck, what did I do? Jesus, Steve. Stevie, I’m so sorry. I’m so…” He looked at Natasha. “What do I do? Should I-”

“Don’t pull them out,” Clint said, appearing by their side. “If you do, the bleeding will only get worse.”

“What are you-” Steve looked between him and Bucky, at the claws that were imbedded deep in his his stomach. “Oh.” He looked at Bucky’s face, then tried to give a self-assured smile. “It’s not your fault, Buck.” 

With that, he let the darkness in his vision take over and slumped against Bucky’s shoulder. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy American Thanksgiving

Bucky dropped to his knees, holding Steve in his arms. “No, no, no, no, Stevie.” He looked at Natasha. “Help me.”

“Babes, I...” She said, then shrugged helplessly. She slumped against the wall next to Clint, both of them still working on healing.

He ripped open Steve’s shirt, pressing the torn fabric against the gaping wound in his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. “Please, please, please.” He looked up at Sam. “You fixed me. Fix him.”

“I-I-” Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t-I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“There has to be something someone can do!” Bucky shouted, looking around at all of them. His eyes landed on Logan, who was looking at Bucky with a deep sadness. “A-alpha.” Bucky pleaded. He bowed his head, scrambling to remember the etiquette. “Could you bestow upon him the g-gift of the Bite?”

Logan rubbed a hand over his face. “Without consent, I can’t.”

“He’s dying!” Bucky yelled. “Do you need a goddamned written invitation? He’s seventeen! I’m sure he’d rather be a wolf than dead!”

Becca put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from insulting the Alpha of Alphas further. At this point, Bucky didn’t care if Logan ripped his fucking throat out, as long as he helped Steve. “Respectfully, Alpha, James is Steve’s mate, surely that counts for something.” She protested.

“Kid, I don’t even know if it’ll take at this point, I mean…”

Celeste’s head snapped up. “There’s a spell for that. Sam,” She grabbed Sam's arm, pulling him towards the kitchen. “I don’t have the Ability, but I can walk you through the components.”

“Hurry,” Bucky said, listening to Steve’s heartbeat. It was usually so quick and arrhythmic, charmingly Steve. Now it was sluggish, working too hard, trying to keep pumping.

Celeste and Sam worked quickly, with Becca offering her aid as well, grabbing ingredients and grinding the occasional plant. Sam painted runes on Steve’s body, as all of the alphas in the room offered their blessing. Bucky held his hand throughout the entire thing. He was not one for prayer, but he found himself pleading to whatever higher power he could call upon. If anyone deserved to live, it was Steve.

Finally, Logan shifted, biting Steve’s right forearm, as directed by Sam. They all watched breathlessly, waiting for any sign of change.

Bucky was the first the let out a sharp cry of relief as Steve’s breathing steadied and his heartbeat grew stronger. It would take longer for his wound to heal, but it would heal. He was going to live. He was going to be okay.

Steve was going to be okay.

 

-

 

Bucky had planned to sleep outside the apartment building the following night until Sarah caught him and chastised him, telling him he’d catch his death. He was sheepish, and turned to leave, but she grabbed his scruff, inviting him up.

After everything, Logan had quietly slipped away as Clint had carried Steve back to his bed, and Sam had called Sarah. The Alphas had quietly explained everything to her as Bucky huddled close to Steve, tail between his legs. When she had looked at her son, face pale and hands mending, Bucky had run away, terrified what she might think of him.

He had expected her anger, her hate, her disgust, but she just presented him with kindness and understanding. The Rogerses, Bucky was learning, were far too good for this world.

Bucky sat on the floor next to Steve’s bed, watching him breathe and monitoring his scent.

When he had first escaped from the hunters, injured, terrified, and mostly feral, Steve’s scent had been the only thing to draw him out from the shadows. It sweet and golden, so very _Steve_. Now, as the wounds in his stomach closed and he slept, Bucky could smell something new on Steve; a hibernating wolf.

It was faint at first, a subtle shift in hormones, probably imperceptible to anyone but his mate. It grew stronger the third day, and when the Alphas came by to check on him, Natasha nodded confidently. “He’ll be strong, I can sense it.”

“Mom says he’s taking it well. She said the longer the sleep, the easier the transition.” Sam said. Sam had been sleeping on the Rogers’ couch, since his apartment had been destroyed in the fight. Mrs. Wilson and the girls had gotten a hotel room, but Sam had asked to stay behind. Every night, he did a ritual over Steve’s sleeping form, something with incense and crystals that Bucky left the room for. He never said anything to Bucky. He hadn’t spoken to Bucky since that night.

In general, Bucky had been trying to stay out of his way. It was probably be best if he stayed out of everyone’s way.

Clint rubbed the fur between Bucky’s ears. “He’s going to need you, Jamie.”

Bucky whined, and Becca flicked his nose. “Stop being so angsty, Fleabag. It wasn’t your fault. Steve doesn’t blame you, so quit beating yourself up.”

He growled at her, but there was no heat behind it. He knew he was being dramatic, and it made him feel like a coward, how he would hide every time it seemed like Steve would wake up. Bucky just wasn’t ready to face him.

He hadn’t slept since that night. Everytime he closed his eyes, he was burying his claws in Steve’s stomach. The smell of his blood, so sharp and so warm, the small gutted sound he made. _It's not your fault, Buck._

“What do you know, Rogers?” Whenever he spoke to Steve, it was in a whisper, kneeling at his bedside. It felt almost like praying.

He mostly stayed in wolf-shaped, but in the dead of night, when Steve’s wolf started to grow antsy and he would sleep restlessly, Bucky would shift back. Sometimes he would read to him, sometimes he would hum a song. Once, he just whispered apologizes over and over again until sunrise. He would never touch Steve. He was too afraid. If he touched Steve, he might hurt him again.

Steve scrunched up his nose, rolling over in his sleep. “Shaddup.”

“Stevie?” Bucky froze, hand hovering over his body.

Steve made a strange little huffing sound and threw an arm over the bed. It was long, much longer than it had any right to be. His ridiculous fingers twitched toward Bucky, and his eyes fluttered. “Mmfph.” He said, then closed his eyes again.

Bucky finally broke out of his stupor, then got to his feet. “Mrs. Rogers!”

It was around three in the morning, but she was awake and by Steve’s side in an instant. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Bucky didn’t answer, because he had already shifted back and was pacing on the floor in front of the bed. Steve made a soft groaning and and moved to sit up, and Bucky bolted out of the room.

 

-

 

When Steve woke up, everything hurt.

Steve tried not to exercise as general rule, but there was a soreness deep in his muscles like he had run a marathon every day for the past three months.

“Mom?” He asked. He could sense her in the room. A cool hand pressed against his forehead and he smiled, opening his eyes.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Sarah murmured.

Steve reached for his glasses, cleaning the lenses with the hem of his shit. “Starving.” He put on his glasses, then frowned as the room blurred. “Huh. I think I need a new prescription.” He paused. “Something smells amazing. What is that?”

Sarah shrugged, looking at Steve with a strange look on her face. “I-I’m not sure, love.”

“Wait, is Sam here?” He tilted his head, sure that could hear Sam in the living room, snoring lightly.

“He’ll be staying with us for the time being. Steven, love, are you feeling alright?”

There was this strange pull inside of him, something that made him want to take off his clothes and go outside and run as fast as he could. He wanted to track down that strange, enticing smell and rub his face against it.

“Why?” Steve frowned, then sniffed the air. “Hey, did you make tacos for dinner? I smell tacos.”

He wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and digging into some tupperware. He ate five leftover tacos, then began eating directly out of a pickle jar. He went through most of a loaf of bread, drank the rest of the milk, and began eating cereal dry out of the box, until Sam walked in, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, it's six in the… holy guacamole.”

Steve slowly set down the Cap’n Crunch and looked at Sam. “Uh, Sam? When did you get so… short?” Then, he sneezed.

Sam made a funny face. “Woah. They said that it would… but I didn’t think that… Mrs. Rogers?” Sarah had been standing in the door, wringing the sleeve of her shirt.

Her eyes were flitting over Steve’s form anxiously, a lot like the time he had pneumonia. “It would be impolite to call Natasha this early in the morning, but-”

“Screw that,” Sam said, getting out his phone. “My best friend is taller than me. This is a crisis.”

Steve walked up to Sam, placing a hand on top of his head. Sam’s head only reached Steve’s chin. “What the hell,” Steve looked down at himself, at the body that he had always found too small and unsatisfying, too broad in the hips and not broad enough in the shoulders. Now, he was… something else.

“Hi, hello. It’s Sam.” Sam slapped Steve’s hands away. “Yeah, he’s awake. I… don’t know, that’s a good question.” He set his phone against his chest, looking at Sarah. “Where the hell is Barnes?”

“Bucky,” Steve breathed.

The fight. The monster. Zola. “What- what happened? Is everyone alright? Where’s Bucky and Rebecca, and-and Celeste.”

Sarah put a hand on his arm. “Everyone’s fine. You’re the only one who got,” She shook her head, then placed her hand on his cheek. It was odd, how she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him. “Well, you’re alright now. That’s all that matters.” She said with a gentle smile.

Instead of Natasha, Clint arrived shortly, smiling at Steve. He nodded at Sarah and Sam, then gestured for Steve to follow him. He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him.  “Hey, kiddo. How’s it hanging?”

“Um…” Steve glanced around the room, then sat next to Clint. Something about him was distracting. It was like there was this power about him that Steve had never felt before.  “I’m not sure. Everything’s weird, and I don’t think I have all the pieces. What happened last night?”  
“Last night? Uh…” Clint, frowned. “We rented a movie from amazon and ate a whole tub of ice cream. Not my best moment, but certainly not my worst."

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean, with the monster.”

“Oh. That was days ago, Steve.” Clint said. “You’ve been asleep for a long time.” He pursed his lips. “Tell me what you remember.”

“Um, sure.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “We took down the monster, that, uh, franken-wolf thing. Then Zola stepped out, and he smashed this vial of liquid that made Bucky go crazy. You guys, or at least, I think it was you guys, smashed in. There was a fight, and I tried to bring Bucky back. I touched his face, and then-” He frowned, pressing his hand against his stomach. “And that’s it.”

“You did something amazing that night, Steve.” Clint said, reaching out and setting his hand on the back of Steve’s neck. For some reason, that made Steve want to bury his face in the man’s chest. “It should have been impossible, what you did. Magic that powerful shouldn’t be able to be broken that easily, but you managed it.”

“Thanks?” Steve wasn’t exactly sure what Clint was saying, but it felt like a compliment.

Clint smiled. “You saved Bucky. But not before he gutted you.”

“Oh.”  Steve looked down at his stomach. He felt under his shirt, but all that was there was smooth skin and surprisingly hard muscle.

Clint let out a breath, hooking his arms over Steve’s shoulders. Normally, he would bristle at the touch, but something about Clint made him relax. “You were losing blood really fast, and moving you would have only made it worse. We asked Logan to give you the Bite. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not…” He frowned. “It's… a lot. There’s so much happening, I-I feel like my skin is on fire and my head is full of bees and there’s this really good smell that I just can’t place.”

Clint nodded. “And there’s this pull in your stomach, right? This itching in your gut that makes you want to run wild and howl at the moon.”

“The…” Steve’s eyes went wide and he looked down at his hands, stretching out his fingers. “You mean I’m…”

“Yeah, you’re a werewolf for sure.” Clint patted him on the back, chuckling a little. “You reek of wolf, dude. Everyone take to the Bite differently, but damn kid.” He grinned. “I’ve never seen anybody accept it the way to did.”

“Huh.” Steve’s head was still reeling.

Clint winced, pulling back from Steve. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot.” He said with a sigh. “I’m not good at this. Nat sent me because I know what it's like, to be a Bitten Wolf who didn’t get a choice in the matter, but she’s much better with…”

“People stuff?” Steve guessed.

Clint huffed. “Yeah. People stuff. Listen,” He leaned back on the bed. “When I was first turned, I didn’t have someone to walk me through it, and it sucked. I had to figure a lot of shit out on my own before I met Winifred and Natasha.”

“Who’s Winifred?” Steve asked.

“Right, first lesson.” Clint slapped his knees and stood, facing Steve. “Hunters. You’ve met some already.”

“Zola. And that creepy guy in the suit.” Steve nodded. “What happened to him, by the way?”

“Let's just say that you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Clint told him.

Steve frowned. “Why not?”

“He’s extremely dead.” Clint clapped his hands together. “Most hunters aren’t like HYDRA. They’re not all mad scientists. Usually, they just want to kill supes like wolves and vamps and the lot of us.”  

“Okay…” Steve nodded, not really sure what else to do.

Clint seemed reassured. “When I was brand-new to this thing, I managed to make myself a target without realizing it. You see, the guy who bit me was a prick. He wanted to make a werewolf army of… susceptible youths or something. There were six of us, at the start.” He suddenly looked down at his hands. “I killed him, and became an Alpha. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I made a mess of everything.” Clint shook his head. “We made ourselves too visible.”

“And hunters came for you?” Steve asked.

Clint made a face that was half-smile, half-frown. “Yeah. We were lucky, Winnie found us first. She was the Alpha of Alphas in Shelby County, Indiana. She was good people. She and her pack took in strays. That’s where I met Natasha.”

“What happened?” Steve asked quietly.

“At first I thought they were leaving us. My Betas were troubled. A few of them were junkies, a few of them were unhappy under my leadership, all of them were runaways. But when Win’s brothers and her her three oldest kids went missing…” Clint shook his head. “They were picking us off.”

“Winnie took us and the rest of her litter and ran to New York. We knew that there was an established pack here, and that it was safe. Only the four of us made it.”

“The four of you?” Steve asked.

Clint sighed. “Me, Nat, and the kids.”

“The ki… oh. Bucky and Becks.” Steve looked at Clint. “Winifred was their mother.”

Clint nodded. “She sacrificed herself to get her kids across the state border.” He looked at Steve, then seemed to shake himself out of whatever memory he was stuck in. “This is just depressing. Okay, time for a proper lesson. Hunters used two main weapons against us. What are they?”  
  
“Um, silver and those little purple flowers.” Steve answered.

Clint beamed. “Look at you! Yes. Wolfsbane. Nasty stuff. Okay, hunters tend to go after packs that have a reason change of leadership, the newly bitten, and lone wolves; any one with a lack of stability, which brings me to lesson number two. Packs.”

“There’s usually one Alpha or an Alpha pair. There _can_ be more, although that can lead to a lot of power struggle so it's not exactly recommended. Everybody else is a Beta, regardless of whether they’re ‘wolves or not. With bigger packs, there’s more structure. Betas take positions of equal importance within the pack; advisers, scouts, fighters, etc. In smaller packs, everyone has to do a little bit of everything.”

Steve nodded. “O-okay, I think I’m getting it.”

“It’s a lot at once, I know.” Clint said. “Now, there are about five large packs in New York City, one for each borough, with the Manhattan Pack being the largest and most powerful.”

“That’s that big wolf's pack?” Steve asked. "That guy with the sideburns?"

“Yeah, Logan.” Clint said. “Now, there are over 50 small packs in NYC. We all answer to the larger pack in our area, and all of the packs answer to the Alpha pack.”

“So, sort of like a feudal system.” Steve said. His leg was bouncing anxiously.

Clint shrugged. “Sure, if that helps. So, as a new wolf, you have your choice of packs. It's safer to be with a larger one, but it's kinda like… like, James is starting to apply to colleges right now, are you?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded.

Clint smiled. “It's a bit like that. The really good schools want really good students, right? If you want a place in the big packs, you need to prove yourself.”

“Can’t I just stay with you guys?” Steve asked.

“Oh.” Clint’s smile grew brilliant. “I mean, of course you have a place with us. You’ll always have one. We just wanted to make sure you know your options.”

“Okay, well. I pick you guys. I’m focused on small liberal arts programs anyway.” Steve said with a shrug. “Can I _please_ learn how to turn into a wolf now? I’m dying over here.”

Clint laughed. “Well, you won’t shift until your first full moon, and you’ve got about a week and a half ‘til then. Let’s work on training for now.”

Over the next few days, Clint ran Steve through what he called “werewolf training”. He explained to Steve that he was free from all of his illnesses now, free from chronic pain and future complications.

Werewolf training was weird. Steve had a new body, but his coordination has never been better. Clint taught him how to run, how to spar, how to climb and jump and generally be athletic. It was so exciting, to finally be able to move the way he wanted to.

Steve had also been eating everything in sight. He was hungry all the time, and he just kept getting bigger. His muscle mass was ridiculous, and he couldn’t stop looking at himself.

Clint also helped him comprehend of the overwhelming litany of senses. It was amazing. He’s been half deaf since he was four and had too high a fever. Now, if he focused, he could hear mother’s heartbeat from the next room. Sense training was so distracting. There was so much going on. Steve had never understood how loud the world was, in every sense of the word. His sight was sharp, he could hear everything, and there was this _fucking_ amazing smell that was driving him mad.

“Okay, I’ve been smelling that since I woke up. What is it?” Steve finally asked.

Clint furrowed his brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, kid. What smell?”

“I dunno, but it's amazing. Like, um, spicy? But also kinda sweet, like, um, pancakes. And trees. Old trees. Oh, and green apple body wash. It’s so good, and I just sort of track it down and rub my face against it and why are you laughing? Stop laughing. Can’t you smell it too?”

He was covering his face with his hands. “Oh, kid.” Clint’s laughs tapered off. “That’s James. That’s your mate. He’s been sitting outside the apartment building in the rain for the past three days.”

“He’s been avoiding me.” Steve grinned. “Idiot.”

“He is a bit, yeah.” Clint said. “Focus on him. What can you tell?”

Steve closed his eyes. “Um, okay. Bucky.” That smell, outside. So good and warm, a little bit like wet dog, but so sweet and soft smelling. How can a smell be soft?

“C’mon, focus.” Clint whispered. “Can you hear him?”

Steve tilted his head. “It’s hard, the rain.”

“I know.” Clint said. “Listen past that. Can you hear him breathing?”

There was something familiar and rhythmic, a little like the patter of rain. Steve began to smile.  “Buuuucky.” Steve singsonged. “Can you hear us?”

For a few moments all he could hear was the rainfall and city noise. Then in a soft little whisper, “No.”

“C’mon, Buck.” Steve smiled. “I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Silence.

“Don’t be stupid. I miss you. I want to see you.”

More silence.

“Don’t make me come down there.” Steve said.

A soft chuckle, then a sigh. “Steve.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“I’m scared.” Bucky whispered. “I hurt you.”

Clint quietly excused himself. Steve laid down on his bed. “I know. But… I trust you, Buck. And not just because of some magical or-or biological instinct. Because you’re my friend. Because even after all they did to you, you still came back to me.”

Bucky let out a soft breath. “Steve…”

“Come on, Buck.” Steve said. “You’re gonna have to face me eventually. You can’t keep running.”

Bucky chuckled. “You sure?”

“Nah. I’ve got your scent now. I can hunt you down.” Steve told him.

He could hear footsteps, but couldn’t hear Bucky. He sighed, throwing his arm over his face. He could hear the front door open, then Sam saying, “About damn time.”

“Oh, love. You’re soaked.” Sarah said. Steve grinned, getting to his feet.

His door burst open, and Bucky was standing there, like John Cusack at the end of a rom com. He moved forward, like he was about to say something, but then stopped, mouth open. Steve laughed, then rushed forward to pick him up off his feet.

Bucky made a squeaking startled sound, but wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, laughing a little against Steve’s lips.

They rested their foreheads together, and Bucky rubbed his thumb along Steve’s cheek. “Look at you.”

The pull in Steve’s stomach was no longer screaming at him, and he finally felt like he fit in his own skin. Bucky, his mate, was here.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this dang thing is so late. Finals are KILLING ME. No really, I'm very sick. Send help.
> 
> I wanted to forewarn some of my more squeamish readers that there's some light gore and violence against animals in this chapter. Y'know. Just werewolf things.

 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky had been sleeping over. Sarah had given a customary protests, but Clint explained a little about mates and packs and separation anxiety, and she had finally given in. 

“I’m not nervous.” Steve told him, trying to find a pair of pants. None of his clothes fit anymore. He had tried to borrow Sam’s, but they had just gotten stretched out. Besides, they smelled wrong. 

“You’re nervous.” Bucky’s decided, poking him in the side.

Steve grabbed him around the middle, lightly biting his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“Make me.” Bucky said with a grin, and the two of them tussled to the ground. Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky let him win or if it was an honest victory, but he got Bucky pinned to the ground with his arm above his head. 

Bucky didn’t seem too broken up about it. “Oh, well.” He said with a shrug. Steve leaned down to kiss him, and Bucky took advantage of the moment, hooking Steve leg and twisting his hips. Suddenly, he was straddling Steve. “You don’t have be nervous, Stevie.”

Steve sat up, pulling Bucky into his lap. “I’m not.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be there the whole time.” Bucky told him, then kissed the corner of his mouth.  

There was a sharp rap on the door. “Boys! Time for breakfast!”

“You better be dressed.” Sam murmured from the kitchen, knowing full well that they could both hear him. 

Steve scoffed. “No privacy in this place.” He was, in fact, shirtless. Bucky had apparently shredded his favorite binder in the aftermath of his injury, so he was going through his compression shirts, trying to find one that would fit. 

Bucky smiled, getting to his feet and pulling Steve with him. “Try living in a den, where everyone can hear and smell what you’ve been up to.” 

“Er, no thanks.” Steve laughed. He pulled one of Bucky’s sweatshirts on, it was funny, because it should have been baggy on him, but now it was almost too tight. Steve thought it was worth it though, turning his face into the hood and breathing in the scent of his mate. 

“Hey, I was gonna wear that,” Bucky said lightly, though he didn’t seem too offended. He just grabbed one of Steve’s old sweaters, which stretched obscenely over his shoulders, and bared his midriff, like a crop top. 

Steve tore his eyes away. “C’mon. I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving.” Steve reached for the door, but Bucky grabbed his wrist. “Wait. What’s for breakfast?”

Steve groaned, but closed his eyes, focusing on the smell. “Um. Eggs.” He wrinkled his nose. “Mom burnt them, so she’s covering it up with cheese and salsa.”

“Yum.” Bucky said, completely unironically. Steve could hear his stomach growling. 

They walked to the kitchen, where a sandy wolf was sitting at Sarah’s feet as she fed him table scraps and giggled as performed tricks for her. Sarah has taken a shine to Clint, who managed to be quite a charmer when he put his mind to it. 

Sam had already finished his breakfast and was cleaning his plate. He caught sight of the two of them in each other’s clothes and rolled his eyes. 

Clint made a woofing noise as they came in, and ran up to them both. Bucky dropped to his knees and allowed him to scent him, and then Steve clumsily did the same. Then, Clint shifted with a wide smile.

Steve thought it was funny, how desensitized to they had all become to werewolf nudity in the past couple of weeks. Even his good Catholic mother barely blushed any more whenever Clint or Bucky or Natasha walked around in the buff. 

“Are you nervous?” Clint asked. 

“No.” Steve said, as Bucky nodded and said, “Yes, he is.” 

Sarah motioned for all of them to get some food. “It’s alright to be nervous, my love.”

“Oh, hey, Jamie can you grab my phone? I think I left it in my pants. I’ll get your plate.” 

Bucky got up. Sam caught Steve’s eye and followed him. “Yo, Clint, you want us to grab your pants too, or…”

“Nah, I’m good.” Clint said, following Steve into the kitchen. He lowered his voice. “She’s right, you know. Big changes. It’s a nerve-wracking sort of day.” 

“I’ll be alright. It's not exactly the first big identity change of my life,” Steve whispered, putting some bread in the toaster.

Clint looked put-upon. “You  _ know  _ that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“I… yeah.” Steve stuck his face in the refrigerator so he didn’t have to look at Clint. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

Clint squeezed his shoulder. “Good man.”

They walked back to the table where Bucky was sitting with Sarah. 

He smiled sweetly as Steve sat down. “No matter what happens tonight Stevie, just remember that that nothing can be as bad as going back to school.” Bucky huffed. They had both missed several weeks of school after That Night, and their first day back had been a bit of a disaster. 

Everyone in school stared at him now. Of course they did. It was surprising, for the scrawny, chronically ill art kid to show up looking like fucking Superman after only a few weeks of suspicious absence. Sam and Bucky had managed to spread rumors that Steve had undergone an experimental gender affirming treatment. 

Also, Clint has underestimated how quick to anger Steve had been  _ before  _ the wolf, and a third puberty hadn’t exactly made him more amenable. He had nearly taken Rumlow’s head off as soon as the jackass started to pick on him about his sudden change in mass. Bucky had to coach him through some breathing exercises to calm him down, and the closer they got to the full moon, the worse it got. 

Clint insisted that most werewolves are homeschooled, and that more training would be better for him that whatever ‘bullshit’ that was taught in high school. He had ended the fantastic rant with “Hey, I never graduated, and look at me now!” And had promptly and thoroughly been chewed out by Sarah. 

So Steve continued to suffer through school. Bucky basically shadowed him everywhere, monitoring his temper. Whenever someone pointed out that he was somewhere he wasn’t meant to be, Bucky just shrugged and claimed to be auditing classes. 

“Besides,” Bucky scooped more eggs onto Steve’s empty plate. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. He smiled sweetly, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. “You’re going to be amazing.” 

“Are you boys all packed?” Sarah asked. “Did you grab your medication?”

“I don’t need that anymore, Ma.” Steve sighed. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know that, Steven Grant Rogers.” The pauses between each of his names were heavy with threat. 

“Mom,” Steve whined. She just crossed her arms. He sighed. “Fine. If it will make you feel better.”

“Thank you.” She said primly. 

Clint grinned, pouring himself some orange juice. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us, Mrs. Rogers?” 

“Ah, no.” Sarah waved him off, carefully not looking at Clint. “I’ve got to work.” 

Clint leaned back in his chair. Sarah’s cheeks turned pink and she stared at the ceiling. “And you, witch kid? You don’t wanna come party with Stevie and the Wolf Pack? Ooh, Stevie and the Wolf Pack is a great name. JB, write that down.” 

“You got it,” Bucky said, not writing anything down. 

Sam scoffed. “No fucking way. I’ve got a date tonight. You’re on your own.” 

“Oh, is that tonight?” Bucky asked sarcastically. Sam hadn’t shut  _ up _ about his upcoming date with Rhodey. Sam just stuck his tongue out and flipped him off with both hands, then quickly ducked his head when Sarah turned to look at him. 

Bucky suddenly cocked his head to the side. It was hilariously puppy-ish. “The girls are here.”

“I’ll let them up.” Clint said, getting to his feet. 

Steve laughed a little, shaking his head. “Sit down, Clint. You’re naked. I’ll get it.” 

“Oh.” Clint looked down at himself, then shrugged and turned back into a wolf, accompanying Steve. 

They walked down the stairs. Before, Steve almost never took the stairs. He would’ve been lucky if he made it a few steps without some function of his body failing him. Now, he took them two at a time, recklessly jumping down flights, knowing that he would heal.

“Hi,” Steve greeted, face flushed from bounding down eight flights. Natasha smiled at him and rubbed her cheek against his, what Steve was beginning to recognize as a classic wolf greeting. Steve should have been embarrassed about the fact that he breathed in the smell of her hair, but the instinct was so strong that he couldn’t be bothered. 

Becca was far more restrained than either of them, but still pulled Steve in for a brief hug. “Are you ready?” She asked, and he nodded. Becca playfully pinched his cheek. “Aw, wittle Stevie on his first moon run.”

“Hey, knock it off.” He laughed, batting her hands away. 

She placed a hand on her chest. “They grow up so fast.”

“Quite literally, in Steve’s case.” Natasha said, from where she was crouching to pet Clint. “Are you boys ready?”

“Yeah, let me go get my stuff and we’ll be down in a sec.” Steve ran back up the stairs. He was still bad at slowing down his momentum, so he crashed through the door with more force than was necessary, socks sliding on the hardwood floor. Bucky jumped into his path so he didn’t take out his mother, and the two of them landed in a tangled heap on the floor.

“Safe!” Sam declared, jumping out of their way. 

Steve got up sheepishly, helping Bucky back up. Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s too-broad shoulder. “Always sweeping me off my feet, ay Rogers? 

“Is the door okay?” Steve asked. It wouldn’t be the first door he had accidentally taken off its hinges this past week 

Sarah was inspecting it gingerly. “The door’s okay, but the wall might need some plaster work done.” 

“Sorry.” Steve winced. “I promise I’ll fix it when we get back.”

“Ah,” She waved him off, rubbing her fingers over the fresh dent. “Adds character.” 

Steve said his goodbyes to Sam and his mother as Bucky got their bags. He and Clint had emphasised that he wouldn’t really need to pack much clothing, but Steve was far more body-shy than either of them. 

They loaded their things into Clint’s car, going upstate. Central Park generally served as green space for most of the cities packs, although those unfortunate enough to live in Staten Island had to use Fresh Kills Park. However, Clint said that turned wolves needed more space to run their first few moons, so they were heading for the Adirondacks.

Steve was antsy in the car. As a natural born New Yorker, he wasn’t very comfortable in cars to begin with, and something about the moon or his wolfiness made him feel cramped. 

Bucky quickly sensed his discomfort and reached over to roll down the windows. Steve gratefully stuck his head outside, ignoring Becca’s small chuckle. 

They finally arrived at the grounds. Steve had never been camping before, but he thought that there were supposed to be more supplies than what Clint and Natasha were carrying. There were only three bags between the five of them, including Steve’s backpack. 

Hiking was not nearly as terrible as Steve had expected it to be. Maybe the fact that the wolf gave him a new found appreciation of nature, or maybe it was just the absence of chronic pain.  

They trekked several miles, until there was nothing but trees and the wilderness surrounding them. By the time they had found a clearing to set up in, Clint and Bucky both threw off their clothes and took off running. 

“Shit!” Steve jumped back as the two of them snarled and shifted and chased each other through the trees. 

Becca just rolled her eyes and helped Natasha start a campfire. “They just need to let off a little steam before the sun sets.” 

Steve set down his bag, sitting cross-legged next to them. He had no idea how to help, so he just watched as the two of them fed the flames. 

After about half an hour, Clint and Bucky returned, sweaty and human and laughing. Bucky greeted Steve warmly, pressing his naked chest against Steve’s back. It should have been gross, but it really wasn’t. Bucky just snuffled at his neck, and it made Steve want to tackle him and pin him to the ground and- 

“Woah!” Steve shoved Bucky off of him, face hot. “Uh… sorry, I-"

“No, I-I’m sorry, um,” Bucky was pink, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Clint sighed dreamily, draping an arm over Natasha’s shoulders. “Aw, remember our first full moon?” She smiled, then stood on her tiptoes, kissing his chin. 

“Don’t worry about it, boys.” Natasha said. “It's perfectly normal. When two werewolves love each other very much…” 

Bucky and Becca both covered their ears in unison. “Ugh, stooooop.” Becca demanded. “I get enough of your sex lives, I don’t need to hear about James’ too.”

Steve’s rubbed his palms on his jeans. They were getting weirdly sweaty. “Uh, well.” 

“Oh, look at the time!” Bucky proclaimed loudly, looking at his wrist. He wasn’t wearing a watch. “It's almost moonrise. We should finish… setting up. Or some other subject change.” 

Clint tousled his hair out of pity. “Alright. Do we wanna do s’mores before or after the run?”

“Oh, let’s do it afterwards, I don’t want to ruin their appetites.” Natasha said, motherly in a way Steve never would have expected from her.  

Becca pouted. “C’mon, I’m starving and I’m not gonna wait for you guys to teach the newbie to how to kill a rabbit before we get to eat anything.”

“Wait?” Steve squeaked. “I-I don’t wanna kill anything!”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “What, no full moon bloodlust?” Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

“No! No bloodlust!” Steve said.

Bucky frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve wanted to kill Rumlow since you got bitten.”

“Yeah, I’m mean, sure, I’d kill Rumlow in a heartbeat, but I’m not about to dig my claws into a bunny!” Steve told him, then took a few steps forward, because Bucky smelled  _ really  _ nice. 

“Hey! Break it up, kids!” Becca threw her book at them. “We’re keeping things strictly PG-13 here.” 

Bucky flipped her off. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped suddenly.

Steve felt it too. All of a sudden, his skin felt hot and prickly. It was like he could hear all the sounds of the forest. The wind rustled through the leaves, and his hair stood on end. He could feel as small critters ran across the ground, and he knew they were running from him.

The howl was unexpected, raw and ripped out of him, louder than any other sound Steve has ever made. It felt amazing _.  _

Then there was Bucky. Bucky, his mate. Bucky, who was looking at Steve with his puppy-blue eyes, tail raised curiously. Steve wanted to tackle him to the ground, wanted to dig his teeth into him, wanted to  _ claim.  _

Steve dove for him, an enthusiastic growl in his throat. Bucky yipped, jumping out of the way. Steve stumbled, tangled in his clothes. He wiggled out of the restricting fabric, grumbling to himself. 

Bucky circled around him, nipping at Steve’s back legs, then darting away. Steve tried to give chase, but froze as Natasha let out a low growl.

Alpha. Steve could feel her power, her presence. Part of him wanted to bristle, wanted to challenge her, tear out her throat for coming between him and his mate. Instead, he lowered his belly to the ground, whimpering in submission. He had learned all about the rituals, about what it took to be a wolf. 

Natasha, massive and regal, stepped over to him, nosing at the back of his neck. He looked up at her, baring his throat. She nuzzled her cheek against his, accepting him into her pack. 

Clint stepped forward and did the same, snuffling in Steve’s ear. Becca crouched in front of him, cupping his head in her hands and pressing her face against his. “Lookin’ good, Steve.” She whispered, scratching his chin. 

He could feel the pack bond, stronger than ever. Before, it had been his connection with Bucky, a subtle draw to Clint and a subtler one to Natasha and Rebecca. Now, he could  _ feel  _ them, feel their individual wolves. Clint was giddy, itching to run wild. Natasha wanted to hunt, but it wasn’t malicious or violent. He could feel that she wanted to chase and play. He could even Becca, who was the only one in the clearing who wasn’t shifted, he could feel the way she was drawn to the moon, the part of her blood that sang with the wolf, even if it didn't manifest. 

And Bucky. Bucky was hopeful and excited and Steve’s _.  _

Bucky ran forward, nipping at Steve’s jaw, then darting into the trees.  He had spent weeks being clumsy with his new lumbering body and the strength that still surprised him. But this form, this body,  _ his wolf  _ was graceful and quick and moved how he wanted it to. He eagerly gave chase, bounding after his mate. 

Clint had told him about this, too. It had been embarrassing at the time, like getting ‘the talk’ from an overeager camp counselor. Now, he was grateful. The instincts and rituals that came with being a wolf were overwhelming, but he had direction. He new what he had to impress his mate. 

Steve had to focus on the hunt. He was able to track Bucky’s scent a few miles, but he lost it as he reached a burbling stream. There were so many distracting smells and sounds in the city, but he knew how to parse them. Out here was different. There was the green smell of wood and the rapid heartbeats of little animals as they scampered away from him. 

He pricked his ears forward, trying to hear past the noise of the water. Bucky was smart, so he must have followed the stream along the current. Steve sprinted along its bank until he picked up Bucky’s scent again. 

Steve yipped excitedly, speeding towards the scent. He jumped over the stream, following it into a small brush. It was odd, because he couldn’t hear Bucky that well, but he was sure that he was hiding in one of the patches of shrubbery. Steve padded over softly, not wanting to spook him.

He pounced on the bush, but instead of Bucky, he had trapped a very frightened rabbit with a pair of underwear tied to its middle. 

Steve cut away the fabric and let the creature go with a small growl. Bucky must have caught the rabbit when he and Clint went running. His mate was tricky.

He started to turn around and head back to the stream when a figure dropped out of the trees and onto Steve’s back. 

Bucky, in his human form, had the advantage of dexterity and surprise, and quickly pinned Steve down. But Steve in his wolf form had more strength and shook him off. They wrestled for a few moments, Steve nipping at Bucky’s ear and jaw, and Bucky digging his fingers into Steve’s fur.

Steve sat on top of Bucky’s legs, nosing at his exposed stomach. Bucky batted at his head. Steve just caught his fingers in his mouth, careful with his teeth. 

“Alright, Stevie. You win. You got me.” He grinned, sitting up and shoving Steve off of him. Steve stuck his cold nose under his ear and Bucky giggled, throwing his arm over Steve’s neck.  “You’re really big, buddy. Kinda cute, too. All blonde and shit.” He flicked one of Steve’s ears and Steve growled quietly. Bucky held up his hand defensively. “I take it back. You’re a big scary wolf.” He pet Steve’s head. “Who's my big scary boy? Yes you are. You’re my big scary wolf boy.” 

Steve pinned him again, licking his face and neck. Bucky tried to cover his face, but to no avail. “No, gross! Don’t slobber on me!” 

They headed back to the camp. Bucky turned back into a wolf halfway through, since it was getting cold outside. Natasha and Clint were still out running, and Becca sitting on her own, roasting what appeared to be a small animal over the fire. 

“Hey, you’re back.” Becca said with a grin. Bucky jogged over, tail wagging. “Clint caught us dinner, but it’ll be a few minutes. I’d ask how it went, but I really don’t want the details.”   


Bucky wrapped himself around Becca, who leaned against him. Steve was suddenly starkly jealous, even though he knew he had no right to be. They were obviously used to running moons together. Steve wondered what it was like when they were kids, with their mother and their older siblings and the big pack they used to have. He hoped that they were happy with what they had now. 

Steve flicked his tail, annoyed at his own possessiveness. But the wolf inside him was clamoring at his stomach, yelling that it was ridiculous, that he could provide a much better meal for his mate than some measly hare or fox or whatever it was that Becca was cooking. 

He licked the side of Bucky’s muzzle, then ran back into the forest, ignoring Bucky confused whine. 

He came back about twenty minutes later, dragging his prize along with him. Clint and Natasha were back, and everyone looked up when Steve returned. 

“Ho-ly shit.” Becca muttered. 

Bucky got to his feet, then shifted into a human. “Steve, I…” He shook his head, dropping to his knees beside him. Steve bowed his head, silently displaying his offering. Bucky cupped Steve’s chin, not even pausing at his muzzle being covered in blood. “Thank you.” Bucky whispered. He glanced back at his-at  _ their  _ pack. “Uh, Becca, can I see the knife, please?”   


“Is that a fucking elk?” Becca asked, handing over a hunting knife.

Bucky stroked the prizes’ antlers. “I think it's a moose.” 

Steve sat beside it proudly. Bucky started skinning the animal, something that would have made Steve incredibly squeamish a few weeks ago. Instead, he watched with interest as Bucky reached into its chest, cracking its ribs, and pulling out its heart. 

His arm covered in blood up to the elbow, offered the heart to Steve. Steve leaned forward, careful with his teeth as he took a bite out it. Bucky pulled it back, digging his blunt, human teeth into the muscle. 

It should have been gross, and it  _ definitely  _ shouldn’t have been attractive, but Steve could barely hold himself back from jumping on Bucky.

“Wow. Good work, kid.” Clint said, walking over. Steve bared his teeth at him, annoyed that their moment was being interrupted. Clint held his hands up. “Alright. Just wanted to see if you wanted me to cook this bad boy. It's an impressive first offering. When I was trying to impress Tasha, I killed a badger or some shit. This is somethin’ else.” 

Steve dipped his head, allowing Clint to drag the moose away. It was a pack offering, too. He felt smug, proud that he had proved himself as a provider.  

They all ate well. The moose wasn’t great, sort of gamey. Clint cooked it rare, because werewolves liked their meat bloody, apparently. Still, they ate until their bellies were full and slept soundly.

He had been worried that the wolf pile would be awkward, but it was actually pretty nice. Natasha slept curled into a tight ball of red fur, and Clint used her as a sort of pillow, stretched out with his legs in the air. Becca slept next to him, wrapped up in a blanket and spooning Bucky. Steve wasn’t sure where to lay down, but Bucky just lifted his head and yawned, showing of his impressive teeth, then pawed at him. 

Steve circled his spot, then laid heavily against Bucky, who buried his muzzle into Steve’s throat and huffed, falling asleep almost immediately. Steve affectionately licked his head, grooming the wild, curling fur between his ears. He rested his chin on top of Bucky’s head and fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, you beautiful motherfuckers!


End file.
